Clemencia's  Crisis 


DDD 


Edith 
Ogden 
Harrison 


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1 

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7  III  III 

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CLEMENCIA'S  CRISIS 


Far  out  the  waters  dissolved   from  blue   into  wondrous 
shades  of  green  [  Page  3  ] 


>^ 


Clemencia's  Crisis 


BY 

OBtiitf)  ©gDen  ^arrf0on 

Author  of 

The  Lady  of  the  Snows"  ''  Princess  Sayranef 
"Prince  Silverwingsf*  etc. 

ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

FRED  J.  ARTING 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 

1915 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. 

1915 


Published  October,  1915 


W.  r.  HALL  PHINTINC  COMPANY,  CMIOAOO 


®o  iMp  Jf rientrj; 

In  that  Wonderful  Land  of  Sunshine  and 
Flowers  and  Hospitality — 

Calitornm 


ivi530791 


y/ 


WP  glorious  February  morning  a  young 
man  stood  on  the  summit  of  a  beauti- 
ful pass  in  the  San  Rafael  Mountains.    He 
belonged  to  a  type  which  would  have  at- 
tracted attention  anywhere,  but  alone,  in 
that  splendid  setting,  into  which  he  seemed 
to    fit    so    well,    he    was    especially    worth 
observation. 

Tall  and  well  built,  his  cumbersome  knap- 
sack, which  might  have  appeared  unwieldy 
on  another  man,   seemed  but  to  contribute 

[I] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

grace.  The  olive  tint  of  his  face  showed  Intimate 
acquaintance  with  nature.  His  deep-set  eyes,  now 
gray,  now  steel  blue,  looked  steadily  ahead.  His 
clean-shaven  jaw  showed  great  strength  of  pur- 
pose and  evidence  that  the  will  of  Its  possessor 
once  aroused  would  dominate  to  the  end.  The 
humorous  mouth  softened  a  bit  the  almost  sinister 
sternness  of  the  face,  and  when  the  latter  relaxed 
Into  smiles  It  seldom  failed  to  win  a  friend. 

Here  unquestionably  was  a  handsome  man,  and, 
as  his  record  showed,  a  brave  one.  Before  he 
was  twenty  Lieutenant  Arslan  Barrlngton  had 
won  his  spurs  In  active  service,  and  under  Dewey 
sailed  quickly  and  fearlessly  Into  the  hearts  of  the 
American  people. 

He  had  accompanied  our  now  famous  admiral 
on  the  dark  night  when  in  Manila  Bay  he  had 
carried  his  ship  stanchly  into  the  enemy's  midst, 
while  they  slept,  winning  fame  for  himself  and 
glorifying  a  nation. 

But  that  victory  was  not  the  only  one  in  which 
Lieutenant  Barrlngton  had  shared.  Every  line 
of  his  splendid  figure  showed  that  he  was  born  to 
fight  and,  although  when  he  was  deeply  moved  his 
quivering  nostrils  and  his  glowing  face  Indicated 

[2] 


Clemencia'0  Cr{0i0 

a  somewhat  sensitive  nature,  one  never  mistook 
the  strength  revealed  in  his  countenance. 

Standing  now  with  cap  in  hand  he  watched  the 
blue  waters  of  the  Pacific  —  that  ocean  so  rare  in 
its  beauty,  so  unforgetable  in  its  splendor.  The 
waves,  tipped  with  sunshine,  flashed  fire,  while  the 
air  above  quivered  with  luminous  rays.  Far  out 
the  waters  dissolved  from  blue  into  wondrous 
shades  of  green,  and  across  the  rainbow  colors 
misty,  mysterious  islands  reared  their  heads,  glint- 
ing like  jewels  in  a  turquoise  setting. 

Dropping  his  gaze  to  the  land  below  him  the 
young  officer  tried  to  make  out  the  Franciscan 
mission  of  Santa  Barbara,  for  that  was  his  destina- 
tion. The  admiral  of  the  Pacific  squadron  at 
San  Diego  had,  a  few  days  previously,  intrusted 
him  with  special  dispatches  to  be  carried  there. 

And  then  an  announcement  from  the  President 
of  the  United  States  was  flashed  around  the 
world!  From  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  from 
East  to  West,  the  wires  tingled  with  its  impor- 
tance. From  the  smallest  adobe  in  the  foothills 
of  the  Sierras  to  the  palaces  on  the  Hudson  the 
interest  vibrated.  The  American  fleet  would  sail 
around  the  globe ! 

[3] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

Lieutenant  Barrington  had  undertaken  the 
journey  to  Santa  Barbara  with  dehght,  especially 
as  he  had  sufficient  time  to  allow  of  his  walking 
over  the  Casitas  Pass.  In  no  better  way  could  he 
travel  that  sunlit  California  than  with  a  map  and 
compass.  The  trails  were  not  always  clear,  but 
he  never  minded  a  detour,  for  it  invariably 
revealed  some  unexpected  beauty.  The  graceful 
grouping  of  the  mountains,  the  surprises  of  can- 
yons and  dividing  ridges,  all  so  supremely  lovely 
that  it  is  impossible  to  overestimate  their  charm, 
were  indescribable. 

And  color !  That  wonderful  paint  brush  which 
nature  alone  can  wield!  One  minute  the  moun- 
tains are  gold  and  dazzling,  then  a  passing  cloud 
seems  to  steal  the  miser's  heap  and  they  suddenly 
become  deep  blue  or  steel  or  purple.  Perhaps  one 
white  as  silver  looms  up  against  a  rosy-colored 
sky.  Sometimes  a  bird  flutters  from  the  branches 
of  a  silver  fir  and  sings  a  melody  of  spring.  But 
always  from  the  storm-beaten  fringes  of  their  icy 
peaks  to  the  lowest  regions  of  meadow,  bright 
with  flowers,  the  mountains  are  magnificent. 

With  his  field-glasses  Barrington  at  last  spied 
the  mission  —  beautiful  enough  to  attract  atten- 

[4] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

tion,  even  did  one  know  naught  of  its  interesting 
history.  Built  on  the  crest  of  a  hill  commanding 
a  view  of  the  valley,  its  twin  towers  are  boldly 
outlined  against  the  higher  range. 

The  young  man  descended  the  pass  rapidly 
and  came  out  in  an  open  stretch  of  valley.  He  had 
almost  finished  his  journey.  The  mountains 
had  been  cool,  but  here  in  the  valley  the  day  had 
become  suddenly  very  warm  and  he  felt  his  energy 
wane. 

It  was  high  noon.  He  would  find  shelter,  eat 
his  modest  lunch,  sleep  away  the  heated  hours  of 
the  afternoon  and  reach  the  mission  in  time  for 
supper.  He  threw  himself  down  under  the  shade 
of  a  great  pepper  tree  and  sank  to  sleep  almost 
as  soon  as  his  head  touched  the  ground. 


[5] 


CHAPTER  II 

HOW  long  he  had  been  asleep  he  did  not 
know,  but  it  must  have  been  several  hours, 
for  when  he  opened  his  eyes  again  the  sun  was 
setting  low  and  he  awakened  suddenly  as  if  some 
thing  had  disturbed  him.  He  sat  up  and  leaned 
against  the  trunk  of  the  pepper  tree  and  as  he  did 
so  he  realized  what  it  was  that  had  broken  in  upon 
his  rest. 

Three  women  were  approaching  and  from  their 
attire  he  judged  they  were  nuns.  He  arose  and 
stood  waiting  for  them  to  come  near  him. 

Two  of  the  women  were  old,  but  the  third,  from 
a  certain  easy  undulation  In  her  walk,  he  knew  was 
young.  Their  heavy  full-skirted  brown  dresses 
were  looped  up  on  one  hip  and  together  with  their 
flat  shoes  retarded  their  movements.  But  in  spite 
of  this,  the  elastic  step  of  the  woman  in  the  center 
betrayed  unmistakably  her  youthful  vigor.  They 
were  conversing  earnestly. 

The  young  woman  appeared  to  be  protesting 

[6] 


Clemencia'0  Crf0i0 

vigorously  and  her  excitement  was  in  great  con- 
trast to  the  calmness  of  the  others.  All  three  were 
too  engrossed  to  notice  him,  although  they  were 
so  near  now  that  he  caught  a  part  of  their  conver- 
sation. 

He  decided  to  make  his  presence  known,  but 
quickly  changed  his  mind  and  drew  back  beneath 
the  branches  of  the  tree.  For  a  strange  thing  was 
happening.  The  nuns  had  stopped.  The  two 
older  ones  faced  him,  and,  lifting  their  hands, 
began  praying  aloud.  The  third  sank  on  her 
knees  before  them,  her  face  in  her  hands.  He 
could  not  understand  what  they  said,  but  at  last 
the  words,  "  Heaven  give  peace  to  our  afflicted 
sister,"  fell  on  his  ears.  Then,  ceasing,  they  kissed 
her  on  the  forehead,  chin,  and  either  cheek.  In  this 
manner  making  a  cross.  When  she  had  risen  to 
her  feet  they  kissed  her  cheek  again  and  after 
saying  aloud,  "  Beloved,  good-bye,"  they  turned 
and  walked  away  quickly. 

The  young  nun  remained  Immovable  until  they 
had  disappeared.  When  the  last  flutter  of  their 
brown  garments  had  faded  In  the  distance  she 
raised  her  hands  deliberately  and  took  off  her  cap 
and  veil.     Then  gradually  she  loosened  her  hair. 

[7] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

It  fell  In  a  long  yellow  stream  far  below  her  waist. 
Suddenly  she  shook  her  head  and  the  golden 
shower  floated  from  her  In  waves  of  light,  falling 
almost  to  her  knees.  The  man  who  watched  her 
wondered  that  one  woman  could  possess  so  much. 
It  waved,  It  rippled,  it  shimmered  In  the  sunshine. 
He  had  never  dreamed  anything  so  glorious  as 
this  woman's  loosened  hair.  It  was  bewildering. 
It  thrilled  him.  Then  the  reflection  that  the  pos- 
sessor of  this  golden  mass  was  utterly  unconscious 
of  his  presence  gave  him  a  tingling  sensation  of 
guilt. 

Overhead  In  the  rich  blue  of  the  sky  masses 
of  foamy  white  clouds  were  floating.  In  the 
feathery  branches  of  the  pepper  tree  the  red  ber- 
ries flaunted  their  vivid  scarlet  beauty,  but  of  all 
the  brilliant  color  the  man  saw  nothing  but  the 
shower  of  dazzling  gold.  He  had  had  no  view  at 
all  of  the  woman's  face.  Indeed,  with  this  glinting 
veil  and  the  brilliant  sunlight  which  fell  over  her 
head  and  body  he  could  scarcely  distinguish  her 
form. 

Suddenly  she  gave  a  great  cry  and  stretching  her 
arms  out  wildly  threw  herself  upon  the  ground 
and  broke  Into  piteous  weeping.     Sobs  shook  her 

[8] 


Clemenda'0  Cri0i0 

slender  form  from  head  to  foot.  She  quivered 
with  a  grief  so  violent  he  wondered  what  could  be 
the  tragedy  which  it  expressed. 

He  began  to  feel  most  uncomfortable.  It 
seemed  almost  criminal  to  watch  this  woman  who, 
believing  herself  to  be  alone,  was  giving  away  to 
her  sorrow.  Still,  he  could  not  leave  any  human 
creature  suffering  as  she  evidently  was  without 
offering  assistance. 

Impulsively  he  took  a  step  forward.  She  heard 
his  footsteps  and  sat  up  instantly,  at  the  same  time 
drawing  her  hair  more  thickly  across  her  face, 
concealing  it  entirely.  When  he  reached  her  side 
she  had  ceased  to  sob.  Only  a  long  quivering 
movement  of  her  body  showed  her  agitation. 

As  he  stood  before  her  he  never  felt  more  awk- 
ward in  his  life,  yet  he  felt  that  he  must  say  some- 
thing, and  after  the  manner  of  man  he  asked  the 
first  question  which  came  into  his  mind. 

"  Can  you  show  me  the  Camino  del  Rey?  " 

She  started  to  rise,  but  her  paroxysm  of  grief 
had  weakened  her  and  she  staggered.  Impul- 
sively he  caught  her  hands  to  aid  her  to  her  feet. 
Only  an  instant  he  held  them  because  she  withdrew 
them  at  once,  but  though  her  face  was  still  con- 

[9] 


"  El  Camino  del  Rey  " 


Clemencia'0  €n0{0 

cealed  behind  the  golden  veil  he  saidMnstinctively 
to  himself: 

"  I  am  sure  that  she  is  beautiful.  Her  hands 
have  told  me  so." 

He  had  caught  only  a  fleeting  glance  at  them, 
it  is  true,  as  they  lay  for  an  instant  in  his  own,  but 
that  glance  had  revealed  that  they  were  slender, 
white,  and  the  pink  palms  and  pinker  nails  showed 
refinement  and  culture.  She  was  no  ordinary  nun 
living  by  daily  routine  and  drudgery;  of  that  he 
was  convinced. 

When  she  spoke  he  would  learn  more  from  her 
voice.  But  she  did  not  speak,  and  her  manner 
compelled  him  also  to  silence.  There  was  aloof- 
ness even  in  her  way  of  answering  his  question, 
for  she  merely  raised  the  brown-shrouded  arm 
and  pointed  silently  to  the  way  he  should  follow. 
Then  before  he  could  thank  her  for  even  this 
silent  courtesy  she  turned  and  walked  swiftly  in 
the  opposite  direction  until  she  disappeared  into 
the  valley. 

As  he  took  his  way  down  the  road  to  which  she 
had  pointed,  although  he  had  not  even  seen  her 
face  or  obtained  the  slightest  clew  to  her  name 
he  told  himself  calmly: 

[II] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

"  I  know  I  shall  see  that  woman  again.  Strange, 
even  ridiculous  as  it  may  seem,  I  was  never  more 
convinced  of  anything  in  my  life.  Something 
passed  between  us  when  I  touched  her  hands  and 
although  no  words  were  uttered,  it  seemed  as  if 
our  souls  spoke  together." 


I 


[12] 


^^s^^f^^Pli\. 


loll 


CHAPTER  m 

ALL  around  Barrington  the  q^^ress  and  the 
L  myrtle  bloomed.  Birds  in  scarlet  plumage 
flickered  like  flame  between  the  branches  of  the 
green  trees  as  he  passed  by  groves  where  golden 
oranges  dangled  temptingly. 

He  was  in  the  most  fascinating  highway  in  all 
the  world  —  the  Camino  del  Rey,  which,  like  a 
broad  ribbon,  stretches  through  California  and 
which  once  connected  the  missions  and  linked  the 
settlements  built  by  the  Spaniards  and  the  Indians. 
What  wonderful  tales  could  be  written  of  it  — 
tales  of  the  splendid  heroism  of  the  padres,  with- 
out whose  mighty  efforts  California  could  not  have 
lived  in  those  early  days  when,  happily  or  wearily, 

[13] 


Clemencfa'0  Cti0is! 

those  sainted  priests  tramped  that  broad  high- 
way. 

Inspired  by  these  thoughts  Barrington  strode 
along  toward  Santa  Barbara.  Just  outside  of  the 
town  a  sudden  turn  in  the  road  brought  him  in 
full  view  of  a  man  and  woman.  Both  were  Span- 
iards. The  woman  was  refined  in  appearance, 
astonishingly  pretty  and  apparently  in  the  early 
twenties.  The  man  bore  the  ear-marks  of  an 
aristocrat,  yet  he  was  of  a  distinctly  disagreeable 
type.  Unlike  most  of  his  race,  he  was  tall,  and, 
though  unusually  handsome,  his  face  showed  the 
weakness  of  self-indulgence  and  deep  lines  of  dis- 
sipation. Furthermore,  it  was  now  convulsed 
with  anger. 

The  couple  had  evidently  just  left  their  horses, 
for  the  woman  wore  the  California  riding  dress 
with  its  divided  skirt,  while  the  costume  of  the  man 
was  accentuated  to  picturesqueness  by  the  sombrero 
and  high-top  boots.  They  were  too  absorbed  in 
their  quarrel  to  notice  Barrington's  approach. 
The  man  was  older  than  his  companion.  Barring- 
ton  judged  him  to  be  about  thirty-five.  The 
woman  was  talking  rapidly  in  her  native  tongue, 
which  Barrington  understood  perfectly.     She  was 

[14] 


I 


Cleniencfa'0  Cri0i0 

reproaching  her  companion,  and  it  evidently  an- 
gered him  greatly,  for  suddenly  he  seized  her  by 
the  shoulders  and  shook  her. 

To  the  officer's  astonishment  the  girl  showed 
no  resentment.  She  did  not  even  struggle.  But 
her  submissiveness  instead  of  softening  apparently 
only  angered  him  all  the  more.  He  raised  his 
whip  and  undoubtedly  would  have  struck  her  had 
not  Harrington,  unable  to  contain  his  indignation 
longer,  sprung  forward. 

At  the  sight  of  him  the  astonished  Spaniard 
dropped  the  girl's  arm  and  exclaimed  in  fury: 

"  Where  in  the  devil's  name  did  you  come 
from?" 

Ignoring  his  question  and  making  no  effort  to 
veil  his  contempt  Barrington  asked: 

"  What  kind  of  man  are  you  to  strike  a 
woman?  " 

"  Must  I  account  to  you,  sir?  "  replied  the  Span- 
iard haughtily.  ''  I  may  do  as  I  like.  The  woman 
is  mine." 

"  But  humanity  Is  the  world's,"  came  the  quick 
retort,  "  and  real  men  do  not  strike  their  wives." 

The  Spaniard's  angry  flush  heightened  as  the 
two  men  faced  each  other. 

[15] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

"  And  pray,  sir,  who  are  you  that  you  should 
dictate  the  proper  treatment  of  wives?  " 

"  Only  a  man,"  answered  the  other. 

The  girl  had  drawn  off  a  little  to  one  side  and 
was  quietly  weeping.  She  showed  no  interest 
whatever  in  the  altercation. 

"  Well,"  continued  the  Spaniard,  advancing  a 
step  nearer,  "  and  what  will  humanity  and  your 
damned  impertinence  choose  to  do  now  as  against 
my  property,  sir?  " 

His  insolence  and  the  sneer  which  accompanied 
it  was  too  much  of  a  strain  upon  the  American's 
patience.  Barrington  suddenly  sprang  forward, 
and  when  a  few  minutes  later,  scowling  and  curs- 
ing with  anger,  the  Spaniard  picked  himself  up 
with  a  blackened  eye  and  a  sprained  wrist,  he  was 
doubtless  convinced  that  it  was  a  mistake  to  fight 
a  man  without  first  wisely  judging  his  strength 
and  skill. 

Barrington  felt  considerably  better.  He  had 
not  enjoyed  bandying  words  with  the  man. 

"  I  shall  be  here   for  some  time,"  he  volun- 
teered, *'  and  can  be  found  at  the  mission.    I  shall 
be  glad  at  any  time  to  discuss  the  law  with  you 
again,  on  the  same  terms." 
[i6] 


CHAPTER  IV 

AN  hour  or  so  later  Barrington  sat  in  the  recep- 
L.  tlon  hall  of  the  mission  awaiting  the  Supe- 
rior. The  door  opened  softly  and  a  monk  entered 
in  silence,  who  folded  his  two  hands  over  the  one 
which  the  young  officer  proffered  as  though  he  was 
too  much  moved  to  speak.  The  padre  was  above 
the  average  height,  but  his  figure  looked  even 
taller  because  he  was  very  thin.  The  thick  folds 
of  his  brown  woolen  habit  fell  together  as  though 
they  covered  a  shadow.  He  wore  a  broad  leather 
girdle  and  from  his  side  hung  a  rosary  of  wooden 
beads  ending  in  a  cross  cut  of  ivory.  His  face 
and  figure  might  have  belonged  to  a  hermit  of 
Egypt,  but  he  bore  the  unmistakable  mark  of  his 
country.  Skin,  hair,  and  eyes  showed  him  to  be 
a  Spaniard.  His  features  were  regular  and  pleas- 
ing. 

''  What  a  handsome  man  Padre  Galvez  must 
have  been  in  his  youth,"  thought  Barrington. 

The  old  priest's  dark  eyes,  bright  and  piercing, 

[17] 


softened  wonderfully  as  he  looked  at  the  young 
man  before  him  and  a  gentle  smile  illumined  his 
face  when  he  said  in  a  voice  of  fullness  and  sweet- 
ness: 

"You  are  astonishingly  like  your  mother  — 
like  her  as  I  knew  her  in  her  youth.  She  must  be 
gray-haired  now,  but  she  will  always  be  beautiful," 
he  finished  gently,  "  for  her  soul  was  beautiful." 

At  the  priest's  words  one  of  his  rare  smiles 
broke  over  the  young  officer's  face. 

*'  My  mother,  sir,  is,  as  you  say,  very  beautiful 
still." 

They  were  standing,  the  elder  man  still  holding 
the  hand  of  the  younger  one.  For  a  moment 
Padre  Galvez's  thoughts  were  back  to  the  past  and 
he  had  a  vision  of  the  young  Irish  girl  as  he  had 
seen  her  once  in  the  rosy  freshness  of  her  twenty 
years.  But  he  returned  instantly  to  the  present. 
He  realized  that  her  son  was  there  before  him 
and  was  perhaps  thinking  him  wanting  in  hospital- 
ity. He  therefore  courteously  bade  him  to  sup- 
per, after  which  they  talked  long  and  earnestly  of 
the  matters  concerned  with  Barrlngton's  mission, 
and  the  padre  asked  many  questions  pertaining  to 
worldly  matters. 

[i8] 


Clemenda'0  Cti0f$ 

Man  of  the  world  that  he  was,  Barrington 
wondered  more  than  once  how  a  solitary  priest, 
living  among  inscriptions  and  carvings,  had  gath- 
ered so  great  a  knowledge  of  current  events.  He 
would  not  have  thought  it  possible. 

When  the  officer  rose  to  leave  he  had  a  strong 
desire  to  question  the  padre  concerning  the  clois- 
tered nuns  near  by  and  to  tell  him  of  his  experi- 
ence with  the  novice  that  afternoon.  But  it  seemed 
like  spying  further  upon  the  unfortunate  woman 
and  so  he  held  his  peace.  He  felt,  however,  that 
there  was  one  question  which  he  must  ask  this 
learned  man. 

"  Padre,"  he  ventured,  "  have  you  in  your  faith 
only  condemnation  for  the  psychic?  " 

"  My  son,  why  should  the  faith  condemn?  " 

^'  But  could  you  as  a  priest  accept  something 
not  clearly  explained?    Would  it  not  be  wrong?  " 

"  Not  always.  Circumstances  would  have  much 
weight;  but  your  question  is  a  little  vague." 

The  young  man  reddened.  He  dared  not  be 
more  explicit. 

"  If  you  were  absolutely  convinced  of  some- 
thing which  reason  told  you  was  impossible,  padre, 
would  you  still  believe?  " 

[19] 


Clemenna'0  Cri0i$ 

"  The  mysteries  of  the  world  are  many,"  the 
priest  responded.  "  Wiser  heads  than  ours  have 
puzzled  over  them." 

There  came  to  Harrington  the  thought  of  an 
episode  in  his  memorable  campaign  with  Dewey 
which  was  fraught  with  mystery  at  the  time,  but 
which  later  had  made  him  more  or  less  a  firm 
believer  in  the  occult. 

"  May  I  tell  you  of  my  first  experience  with 
the  psychic?  "  he  asked. 

The  priest  nodded  acquiescence. 

"  On  the  morning  that  the  Olympia  stole 
through  the  gray  mist  into  the  waters  of  Manila 
Bay  I  was  stationed  aft  on  the  lower  deck,  while 
our  famous  commander  and  his  immediate  subor- 
dinates occupied  the  bridge." 

The  young  man  flushed  as  he  observed  a  tight- 
ening of  the  lips  of  the  man  to  whom  he  was 
speaking.  He  felt  instantly  the  inappropriateness 
of  the  subject  before  such  a  Hstener,  for  while 
Padre  Galvez  was  a  man  of  big  mental  caliber, 
the  thought  of  that  memorable  morning  in  which 
his  nation's  ships  had  been  humbled  in  a  most 
incredibly  brief  affray  could  not  but  affect  him 
now.     The  priest  saw  the  young  man's  embar- 

[20] 


Clemenria'0  Cri$i0 

rassment  and  with  kindness  of  heart  came  speedily 
to  his  rescue. 

"  Go  on,  my  boy;  we  cannot  quarrel  with  his- 
tory. You  started  to  tell  me  something  about  the 
day  of  which  you  were  justly  proud  and  of  which 
we  have  no  reason  to  be  ashamed.    Go  on." 

*'  I  felt  rather  than  heard  a  voice,"  continued 
Barrington.  "  It  was  insistent,  and  in  what  was 
probably  not  more  than  the  passing  of  a  few  sec- 
onds it  seemed  to  repeat  its  command  a  dozen 
times.  Involuntarily  I  heeded  it  without  attempt- 
ing to  define  it.  I  stepped  a  pace  to  the  right  and 
as  I  did  so  a  ball  from  one  of  the  Spanish  ships 
tore  into  and  pierced  the  main  hatchway  behind 
which  I  had  stood. 

"  The  miraculous  escape  did  not  impress  me 
greatly  at  the  time.     I  attributed  it  to  luck." 

The  young  officer  leaned  forward  and  his  ordi- 
narily cold  eyes  sparkled  as  he  went  on. 

''  The  real  significance  of  the  incident,  padre, 
came  home  to  me  after  my  return  to  America.  My 
mother  and  I  were  in  the  library  of  our  New  York 
home.  It  was  late  at  night,  for  I  had  been  nar- 
rating to  her  at  length  the  history  of  the  pro- 
digious day  that  made  our  admiral  famous.    Of  a 

[21] 


Clemenna'0  Cr{0f0 

sudden  she  arose,  and,  walking  to  my  side,  put  her 
arms  around  me.  '  My  boy,'  she  said,  '  you  don't 
know  what  a  joy  It  is  for  me  to  see  you  safely  here 
by  my  side.  I  always  worry  about  you  when  you 
are  gone,  of  course.  But  this  last  time  I  was  more 
uneasy  than  ever  before.  Do  you  know,  Arslan, 
that  in  the  very  hour,  perhaps  the  very  moment, 
when  you  were  in  the  thick  of  that  engagement  on 
the  Olympia  I  seemed  to  receive  some  telepathic 
message  that  you  were  in  imminent  danger.  I  was 
agonized  and  in  my  excitement  cried  aloud, 
"  Move,  Arslan,  move!  "  I  wonder  if  you  heard 
me  —  if  a  kind  Providence  made  you  hear  me?  ' 

"  You  can  imagine,  padre,  my  feelings  when 
the  thought  of  that  strange  warning  I  had  received 
on  the  battleship  was  recalled  by  my  mother's 
words.  I  am  now  a  firm  believer  in  mental  telep- 
athy.    Can  you  blame  me?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Padre  Galvez  kindly.  "  The 
ways  of  Providence  are  impenetrable.  And  now 
—  now  in  a  different  way  you  are  experiencing 
another  mystery?  " 

Again  the  young  man's  face  flushed,  but  he  did 
not  reply.  Perhaps  this  new  psychic  feeling  could 
be  explained  the  same  way. 

[22] 


CHAPTER  V 

BARRINGTON  was  thoughtful  as  he  bade 
the  padre  good  night.  Later  in  his  room  he 
found  himself  depressed.  Yet  he  was  on  the 
alert  as  though  bracing  himself  to  meet  some  great 
pressure. 

He  was  not  an  emotional  man,  and  he  had  lived 
a  rational  and  rather  quiet  life.  He  was  a  book 
lover  and  a  fisherman,  two  occupations  conducive 
to  an  easy  conscience,  for  a  life  in  the  open  air  is 
really  a  university  course  for  the  soul.  Even  at  this 
moment  of  highest  nerve  tension  he  was  saying  to 
himself  with  a  clear,  normal  brain:  "This  can 
all  be  explained.  Some  day  the  theories  of  Mes- 
mer  and  Charcot  will  seem  simple  and  the  miracles 
they  performed  will  be  explained." 

It  had  been  but  a  moment  that  he  had  held  the 
woman's  hands,  but  the  knowledge  of  her  call  had 
come  to  him  instantaneously.  His  own  soul  had 
answered  affirmatively  as  it  thrilled  in  the  grip  of 
her  appeal. 

[23] 


i 


li^ 


Barrington  bade  the  padre  good  night 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

The  mere  remembrance  of  it  filled  his  mind  and 
a  dozen  times  he  tried  to  force  his  thoughts  into 
other  channels,  but  try  as  he  would  he  was  unsuc- 
cessful.    Over  and  over  again  he  asked  himself: 

*'  Can  I  believe?    Can  any  sane  man  believe?  " 

Suddenly  he  heard  a  voice  say: 

"  Open  your  eyes  and  believe." 

It  seemed  to  Harrington  that  he  had  made  a 
great  effort  to  obey  and  that  when  he  opened  his 
eyes  he  was  in  a  strange  room,  evidently  a  library, 
for  he  saw  bookcases  and  a  writing  table. 
Through  the  open  windows  he  could  see  the  blue 
waves  of  the  ocean  and  the  scent  of  heliotrope 
with  the  perfume  of  other  flowers  came  to  him. 
The  voice  which  had  bidden  him  open  his  eyes 
spoke  again.    It  was  a  musical,  woman's  voice. 

"  Do  not  struggle  to  see  anyone  but  me,"  it 
said.  "  It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should  see 
anyone  else  yet.  But  please  look  at  me.  I  am 
waiting." 

He  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  voice  and  saw 
a  young  woman.  She  was  tall,  with  dark  glowing 
eyes  and  golden  hair.  Save  for  the  fact,  however, 
that  the  color  of  her  hair  was  unusual  she  was  of 
the  strictly  Spanish  type. 

[25] 


Clemenria'0  Cri0i0 

He  gazed  upon  her  without  speaking,  startled 
by  her  beauty,  it  is  true,  but  even  more  startled 
by  the  troubled  look  in  her  eyes.  In  them  was  a 
piteous  appeal  which  touched  him  profoundly. 
Her  voice,  though  low,  was  very  distinct  and  she 
was  speaking  directly  to  him. 

"  I  am  very  unhappy,"  she  said.  "  Will  you 
help  me?  " 

"  I  will  do  all  that  I  can,"  he  replied  impulsive- 
ly, surprised  at  his  own  earnestness. 

"  But  if  you  really  mean  to  help  me  you  must 
fight." 

"  I  am  not  a  coward,  Senorita.  Believe  me,  I 
will  fight  for  you  with  all  my  soul." 

It  seemed  to  him  a  little  strange  that  they 
should  be  speaking  Spanish. 

She  smiled,  showing  milk-white  teeth,  but  as 
he  leaned  forward  to  take  her  hand  she  moved 
back  a  step. 

"  Not  yet,"  she  said.  "  There  is  plenty  of  time 
to  meet  me  in  the  flesh.  I  wanted  only  to  be  sure 
that  you  would  help  me  and  so  I  came  in  spirit." 

She  kept  moving  farther  and  farther  away  as 
she  spoke.  Fearing  lest  she  should  leave  the 
room,  he  said  eagerly: 

[26] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

"  But  tell  me,  how  can  I  help  you?  I  do  not 
know  what  trouble  you  are  in.  I  do  not  even  know 
your  name!  " 

"  Alas!  "  she  said  sadly,  her  hand  on  the  door, 
''  that  you  must  find  out  for  yourself.  I  have  no 
power  to  say  more.     Good-bye." 

He  sprang  forward,  but  in  an  instant  the  woman 
disappeared  and  he  found  himself  sitting  up  in 
his  chair  holding  tightly  to  a  spray  of  heliotrope 
which  he  had  pulled  from  a  vase  standing  on  the 
table  by  his  side. 

It  was  still  a  long  time  till  dawn.  He  was 
healthy,  young,  and  tired.  So  darkening  the  room 
he  went  to  bed  and  was  soon  asleep. 


[27] 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  next  afternoon,  when  Lieutenant  Bar- 
rington  met  Padre  Galvez  at  the  appointed 
hour,  the  priest  greeted  him  warmly. 

"  The  Senora  Castellanos  has  consented  to  en- 
tertain the  fleet  when  it  arrives  in  Santa  Barbara," 
he  said.  "  Manuel  Sanchez  has  just  brought  me 
the  message.  He  is  her  cousin  and  the  manager 
of  her  estate.     His  influence  is  great  with  her. 

"  With  the  senora's  consent  I  am  satisfied  the 
welcome  of  the  few  Spanish  people  here  will  be 
no  small  part  of  the  great  preparations." 

"  I  arn  glad,"  responded  Barrington,  "  because 
although  the  Spaniards  are  few  In  number  the 
President  especially  desired  them  to  be  prominent 
in  the  festivities." 

"  I  am  glad,  too,  my  son,  glad  also  that  many 
weeks  must  yet  elapse  before  the  arrival  of  the 
fleet.  It  will  give  me  time  to  become  acquainted 
with  you  after  all  these  years  of  separation  from 
your  parents.     But  I  must  not  be  selfish.     Your 

[28] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

letters  to  our  leading  people  here  must  not  be  for- 
gotten. While  you  present  the  one  to  Mr.  Grigsby 
Helton  this  afternoon  I  will  make  arrangements 
to  call  with  you  another  day  upon  Senora  Castel- 
lanos.*' 

"  Padre,"  said  the  young  man,  "  tell  me  some- 
thing of  the  ranch  life.  What  is  its  attraction  for 
people  of  culture?  " 

"  That  is  easily  seen,  my  son.  Take  these  beau- 
tiful homes,  almost  in  the  mountains  and  yet  in 
sight  of  the  Pacific,  fill  them  with  people  of  wealth 
and  refinement  and  there  you  have  the  basis  of 
California  ranch  life." 

"  Whose  is  the  white  palace  on  the  summit  of 
the  hill?" 

*'  It  is  occupied  by  a  beautiful  woman  in  the 
English  Court  set.  But  it  is  no  more  popular  than 
the  small  one  hidden  a  few  miles  distant,  the  home 
of  the  widow  of  a  famed  writer." 

"  Intellectuality  should  govern  wherever  it 
rests,  of  course,  but  how  seldom  it  does,"  said 
Harrington,  musingly. 

''  My  son,  do  not  judge  all  the  representatives 
of  prosperity  by  the  disgusting  vulgarity  of  some." 

"  I  assure  you,  padre,  that  I  have  no  desire  to 

[29] 


Clemenna'0  Cti0i0 

disparage  them,"  the  officer  answered,  "  but  you 
must  admit  that  our  wealthiest  Americans  are  not 
always  those  of  whom  we  are  most  proud." 

"  Ah,"  eagerly  interposed  the  priest,  "  admit- 
ting this,  there  are  still  many  whose  power  has 
been  given  by  money  whose  lives  are  simple  and 
wholesome  —  many  who,  though  not  blind  to  the 
advantages  of  wealth,  take  them  like  sane,  healthy 
mortals.  For  such  as  these  surely  our  country  has 
only  a  feeling  of  pride." 

"  And  are  your  Santa  Barbarans  sane  mortals, 
such  as  you  describe?  "  laughed  the  young  man. 

"  Many  of  them  are,  indeed.  Santa  Barbara 
claims  its  life  of  pleasure,  and  perpetual  self- 
indulgence  is  bound  to  lower  our  moral  standard 
and  weaken  the  race,  of  course.  But  there  are 
noble  types  of  men  and  women  here." 

And  later  Barrington  thought  the  Grigsby  Hel- 
tons should  be  included  in  the  best  type  of  Santa 
Barbarans.  Mr.  Helton  was  president  of  one  of 
the  greatest  railroads  in  the  West,  a  mighty  artery 
connecting  the  two  oceans.  He  was  only  forty, 
but  already  his  splendid  executive  ability  had 
tended  considerably  toward  his  road's  success. 

It  was  in  this  railroad  magnate's  beautiful  Santa 

[30] 


Clemenna'0  Crisis 

Barbara  home  that  Barrington  made  his  entree  to 
California  society.  Mrs.  Helton  was  twenty- 
eight,  in  the  flush  of  youth  and  very  popular.  It 
was  natural,  therefore,  that  their  house  should 
be  a  social  center. 


[31] 


CHAPTER  VII 

TWO  days  later  at  four  In  the  afternoon 
Lieutenant  Harrington  in  response  to  an 
Invitation  called  upon  Mrs.  Helton.  He  found 
her  a  charming  woman,  and  when  they  had  spent 
a  few  minutes  in  conversation  she  arose  saying: 

''  I  must  not  be  utterly  selfish,  Lieutenant  Bar- 
rlngton.  I  have  other  guests  who  desire  to  meet 
you.  We  will  go  to  the  library,  where  tea  will 
be  served." 

They  crossed  a  spacious  hall  filled  with  won- 
derful potted  plants  and  entered  the  library. 

It  was  well  that  Mrs.  Helton  was  leading,  else 
she  might  have  been  surprised  at  the  young  offi- 
cer's face.  When  they  entered  the  room  he  paled 
visibly.  It  took  all  his  self-control  to  prevent  his 
exclaiming  aloud. 

The  room  he  had  entered  was  the  room  of  his 
dream! 

The  bookcases,  table,  and  chairs  were  just  as 
he  had  observed  therp  In  his  vision.     The  sun 

[32] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

streaming  through  the  open  window,  the  blue 
ocean  in  the  distance,  the  strong  scent  of  the 
delicious  heliotrope  —  all  were  exactly  as  he  had 
known  them. 

He  pulled  himself  together  only  by  a  powerful 
effort.  He  felt  that  he  must  control  his  facial 
expression,  that  he  must  not  betray  his  emotions. 
He  was  as  certain,  though,  that  he  would  see  the 
girl  of  his  dream  as  he  was  that  he  was  following 
Mrs.  Helton  and  the  thought  actually  made  him 
afraid  to  lift  his  eyes. 

Then  Barrington  was  conscious  that  Mrs.  Hel- 
ton was  introducing  him,  that  some  young  ladies 
bowed  and  addressed  him  cordially  and  that  he 
murmured  some  greetings  in  reply.  Finally  he 
gained  sufficient  courage  to  look  about  him.  He 
noticed  that  none  of  the  young  women  to  whom 
he  had  been  presented  bore  any  resemblance  what- 
ever to  his  dream  maiden  and  this  fact  gave  him 
time  to  collect  himself.  Feeling  less  nervous  he 
boldly  scanned  the  room. 

And  then  he  saw  her. 

He  never  quite  forgot  the  thrill  of  that  moment. 
Indeed,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  never  afterward 
forgot  the  slightest  thing  in  connection  with  her. 

[33] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

She  was  standing  In  a  group  of  young  people 
and  was  easily  distinguishable  from  the  rest.  It 
may  have  been  the  peculiar  combination  of  dark 
eyes  and  light  hair.  It  may  have  been  the  unusual 
haughtiness  of  her  carriage.  It  may  have  been 
her  beautiful  face.  But  whatever  It  was  he  knew 
from  the  first  glance  that  the  Spanish  girl  had 
come  into  his  life  now  and  forever. 

Following  his  glance  his  hostess  said  warmly: 

"  That  Is  Clemencia  Castellanos,  my  best 
friend.  I  shall  take  great  pleasure  In  presenting 
you.  But  let  me  warn  you  In  advance.  She  Is  a 
veritable  enchantress  and  you  must  not  succumb 
to  her  charms." 

He  laughed  pleasantly,  but  did  not  reply.  His 
hostess  lowered  her  voice  and  whispered: 

"  Really,  I  am  In  earnest,  Lieutenant  Barring- 
ton.  It  would  be  hopeless,  you  know,  for  she  Is 
already  promised." 

Somewhat  at  a  loss  as  to  what  to  say  In  reply 
to  this  strange  confidence  Barrlngton  answered 
lightly : 

"  She  is  young.  She  cannot  have  been  prom- 
ised very  long." 

"  She  was  promised  In  childhood." 

[34] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0is; 

*'  Forbidden  fruit,"  he  jested,  "  is  always  the 
choicest.  Then,  too,  I  have  heard  of  broken 
promises." 

*'  True.  But  your  arts  would  be  useless  here. 
Her  smiles  would  never  be  for  you.  She  is  bound 
as  securely  as  though  a  chain  of  our  glittering 
Sierras  held  her  hidden  in  their  midst." 

"  Are  the  Spaniards  so  tenacious  of  their 
promises?  " 

"  This  one  would  die  before  she  would  break 
hers." 

"  But,  Madame,"  he  protested,  ''  you  are  mak- 
ing me  curious  about  your  beautiful  Spanish  siren. 
In  fact,  I  am  so  interested  that  I  cannot  promise 
not  to  enter  the  lists  as  a  valiant  suitor  for  her 
smiles." 

"  Then  your  fate  be  on  your  head,"  she 
laughed. 

Suddenly,  however,  her  face  grew  grave  and 
she  added: 

"  If  I  thought  you  were  serious  I  would  not 
present  you.  The  girl  is  beautiful  as  an  angel, 
but  she  is  really  promised.  Her  word  will  never 
be  retracted.    Never.    Never '^ 

For   a   moment  he   felt  quite   thrilled  by  the 

[35] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

solemnity  of  her  words,  but  recovering  his  poise 
he  murmured  under  his  breath: 

''  Lucky  the  man  who  has  won  such  devotion." 
Then  aloud:  ''Lead  on,  I  am  ready  to  face 
your  enchantress  I  " 


^  W 


[36I 


^11111  ri^^^ffi'iftp 


uu 


CHAPTER  Vin 

AND  so  Arslan  Barrington  stood  before  the 
.  beautiful  girl  of  his  dream,  finding  her  even 
more  entrancing  in  life.  Her  lips  and  skin  were 
luminous.  Her  figure  was  superb.  She  bore  her- 
self with  an  indescribable  stateliness  which  was 
charming  in  one  so  young. 

Mrs.  Helton  left  them  alone  after  she  had 
presented  the  young  officer  and  for  a  moment 
neither  spoke.  Then  Barrington,  bowing  cere- 
moniously, said: 

*'  Senorita,  may  I  have  the  pleasure  of  drinking 
tea  with  you?  " 

[37] 


Clemenna'0  Cri0i0 

"  Certainly,  Lieutenant  Barrington.  Are  you 
not  the  guest  of  honor?  " 

He  smiled  down  on  her.  She  had  promptly 
dealt  his  vanity  a  blow.    But  he  answered  lightly: 

"  Would  you  Imply,  then,  that  politeness  alone 
Impels  you  to  accept  my  invitation?" 

"  Would  you  have  me  acknowledge  more  on  a 
moment's  acquaintance?  "  came  the  quick  retort. 

"  Senorlta,  I  throw  myself  upon  your  mercy. 
I  refuse  to  enter  into  a  combat  of  words  with  one 
so  eminently  skilled  in  their  use." 

"  You  seem  quite  able  to  defend  yourself,"  she 
laughed. 

"  But  why  should  you  assure  ,me  that  you  are 
not  free  to  refuse  my  request?  "  he  jested. 

"  Why  should  I  flatter  you  by  saying  anything 
else?" 

"  Senorlta  Castellanos,  again  I  sue  for  mercy. 
Should  we  fight  now  I  feel  sure  that  I  would  go 
down  In  defeat.  Therefore  I  shall  bring  your  tea 
at  once." 

She  laughed  heartily.  "An  officer!"  she 
mocked,  *'  and  so  lacking  In  courage  1  " 

*'  I  shall  hope  to  regain  mine  over  the  tea  cups," 
he  said. 

[38] 


Clemencfa'0  Cri0f0 

All  the  time  they  had  been  talking,  although 
they  had  both  spoken  lightly,  there  had  been  a 
subtle  something  in  the  girl's  manner  which 
savored  of  embarrassment. 

But  at  his  last  words  she  laughed  again  and 
seemed  to  lose  the  indefinable  something.  There- 
after she  appeared  more  natural.  She  motioned 
to  a  corner  of  the  room,  saying: 

**  I  shall  wait  for  you  there.  Lemon  and  one 
lump  of  sugar,  please." 

"  Miss  Castellanos,"  he  said,  approaching  and 
handing  her  the  cup,  "  I  am  to  call  at  your  home 
tomorrow  and  meet  your  grandmother.  I  con- 
sider it  a  great  honor  that  she  has  consented  to 
receive  me." 

To  his  astonishment  a  most  peculiar  expression 
crossed  her  face  —  one  which  he  could  not  ana- 
lyze. Had  he  said  something  to  displease  her? 
And  if  so,  what  was  it? 

*'  Yes,"  she  replied.  *'  I  was  surprised  to  learn 
that  she  had  consented  to  entertain  the  fleet  at 
your  request." 

"  You  do  me  too  much  honor,  Senorita.  The 
request  comes  from  the  President  of  the  United 
States.    I  am  only  the  humble  bearer  of  it.    May 

[39] 


Clemenda'0  Crisis 

I  venture  to  hope,  however,  that  your  grand- 
mother's consent  is  not  unpleasant  to  you?" 

"  And  if  it  were,"  she  broke  in  hastily,  ''  it 
would  make  no  difference.  Senor  Sanches  con- 
trols my  grandmother  in  all  worldly  matters." 

Harrington  was  decidedly  taken  aback.  The 
conversation  had  suddenly  become  awkward.  If 
he  were  to  make  headway  at  all  with  Miss  Castel- 
lanos  he  must  change  the  subject. 

"  Senorita,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  I  lit  a  candle 
in  the  Mission  today  and  made  a  wish  for  the 
greatest  desire  of  my  heart." 

She  was  looking  at  him  with  amiable  curiosity. 

*' The  greatest  desire  of  your  heart?"  she 
echoed.     "  You  must  want  it  very  much." 

"  I  do,"  he  replied.  "  Do  you  think  I  shall 
get  it?" 

In  some  way  his  earnestness  seemed  to  impress 
her.     She  flushed  a  bit  under  his  look. 

*'  Did  you  ask  something  impossible?  " 

"  I  asked  for  a  miracle,"  he  replied. 

"  A  miracle!     In  these  days?  "  she  scoffed. 

"  Why  not?  "  he  asked  coolly. 

"  And  you  think  you  will  get  it?  "  she  parried, 
ignoring  his  question. 

[40] 


Clemencia'0  Crisis 

"  When  I  lit  the  candle  I  confess  I  did  not.  I 
was  very  skeptical.  But  that  hour  has  passed 
now." 

''Why?" 

"  Because  part  of  the  miracle  has  already  come 
true,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

Again  his  manner  stirred  her.  She  moved  un- 
easily under  his  gaze. 

"  Already  come  true?  What  can  you  possibly 
mean?  " 

He  bent  his  head  lower,  compelling  her  to 
return  his   powerful  gaze. 

"  Yes.  This  afternoon  a  part  of  the  miracle 
has  come  true.  Do  you  believe  in  mental  telep- 
athy? "  he  asked  suddenly. 

Before  she  could  lower  her  eyes  he  saw  a  flash 
of  terror  creep  into  them.  She  shivered  a  little. 
Then  she  replied: 

"  How  tragic,  Lieutenant  Barrington.  For  a 
moment  your  question  startled  me.  But  I  have 
no  faith  In  mental  telepathy  at  all,"  she  answered 
decisively.  "  And  if  you  had  that  thought  in  mind 
when  you  entered  the  mission,  I  fear  that  you  have 
wasted  a  candle." 

"  That  remains  to  be  seen,"  he  replied  serenely, 

[41] 


Clemenria'0  Cri0{0 

studying  meanwhile  her  stubborn  eyelashes.  "  Re- 
member I  told  you  that  part  of  the  miracle  had 
already  come  true." 

She  handed  him  her  empty  cup  and  arose,  say- 
ing in  the  coolest  of  voices: 

"  How  interesting !  Perhaps  some  time  you 
will  tell  me  more  of  the  miracle.  Just  now  I  feel 
that  I  must  not  keep  you  longer.  Besides,  I  must 
be  going." 

He  saw  her  perturbation  and  was  triumphant. 
"  She  is  afraid,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  and  she 
understands;  just  how  much  I  am  not  sure,  but 
she  understands." 

Aloud  he  continued:  "  May  I  hope  to  see  you 
tomorrow,  Senorita,  when  I  call?  " 

Her  natural  poise  had  returned.  She  nodded 
pleasantly. 

"  If  you  really  care  to.  Lieutenant  Harrington, 
most  likely  you  may.  But  if  you  stay  long  in  Santa 
Barbara  you  will  find  that  in  an  interview  between 
my  grandmother  and  Padre  Galvez  I  am  of  small 
importance." 


[42] 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  next  afternoon  Padre  Galvez  guided 
Lieutenant  Barrington  to  the  home  of 
Senora  Castellanos.  Most  of  the  estate  lay  along 
a  rolling  upland,  above  Santa  Barbara.  Back  of 
it  were  the  mountains  and  stretching  between  them 
lay  the  valley  filled  with  trees.  Gliding  over  the 
broad  acres  was  a  silver  stream.  The  house  itself 
stood  on  a  little  knoll.  Its  thick  walls,  its  small 
windows  and  its  long  porches  were  characteristic 
of  Spanish-American  architecture. 

As  the  young  officer  entered  the  house  he  was 
impressed  by  the  elegance  and  beauty  of  the 
interior.  He  and  the  priest  were  ushered  into  a 
room  eighty  feet  long  and  nearly  forty  feet  wide. 
It  was  filled  with  rare  old  Spanish  tapestries,  em- 
broideries, and  carved  furniture.  The  brocade, 
mellowed  by  age,  had  a  softness  of  tint  which 
toned  in  with  the  luminous  glow  and  polish  of  the 
old  furniture.  Gold  and  amber  were  the  prevail- 
ing shades,   although  here   and  there   a   cabinet 

[43] 


fiim 


n.e. 


"Wis 


«}:^V 


f  ■ 

W'  pis 


►-=^=>TrtiJi' 


r 


'■■■1 


cY'i 


The  home  of  Senora  Castellanos 


Clemencfa'0  Cti0i0 

sparkled  with  rare  treasures  gleaming  like  the  rays 
of  a  fire  opal.  Oil  paintings  decorated  the  walls 
and  stately  men  and  women  looked  down  from  the 
gilded  frames. 

After  a  few  minutes  had  passed  a  tall,  digni- 
fied woman  of  perhaps  sixty-five  entered.  Her 
white  hair  was  parted  in  the  middle  and  drawn 
back  from  her  face.  Her  blue  eyes  were  unusu- 
ally bright  and  penetrating,  and  her  handsome, 
though  rather  stern  countenance  evidenced  re- 
markable strength  of  character. 

The  Senora  Castellanos  was  accounted  the 
richest  woman  in  California.  Her  wealth  accu- 
mulated amazingly,  but  with  it  all  she  was  not 
contented.  She  belonged  to  a  race  that  boasts,  at 
least,  the  strongest  individuality  on  earth.  She 
was  of  the  pure  Castilian  blood,  and  was  enough 
of  the  patrician  to  resent  the  race  amalgamation 
that  was  going  on  in  Lower  California.  Protected 
as  she  was  by  the  vastness  of  her  own  estate,  she 
appeared  deaf  and  dumb  to  the  encroachments  of 
the  Americans,  but  secretly  she  opposed  them  bit- 
terly. If  it  had  been  in  her  power  she  would  have 
swept  back  with  the  broom  of  racial  pride  the 
advancing  wave  of  progress  which  makes  for  the 

[45] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0f0 

betterment  of  the  world.  But  lacking  this  might 
the  senora  took  refuge  in  disdain  and  a  con- 
comitant seclusion. 

She  was  a  devout  Catholic  and  there  was  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  coming  and  going  necessitated  by 
Christianity,  of  course.  But  when  mass  was  over, 
her  splendid  grounds  protected  her  from  intrusion 
and  her  closed  doors  enforced  the  strictest  privacy. 
Although  she  lived  almost  in  the  shadow  of  the 
mission  her  spirit  was  not  softened.  She  would 
never  mingle  with  the  race  she  ignored  and  hated. 

She  greeted  her  guest,  however,  as  cordially  as 
her  cold,  stern  nature  would  permit. 

"  I  am  glad  to  welcome  you,"  she  said,  "  al- 
though I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  that  Senor  Sanchez 
was  called  away  this  morning  and  cannot  be  with 
us.  In  fact,  his  business  is  likely  to  detain  him 
several  weeks  in  San  Francisco." 

"  When  I  read  the  papers  this  morning  I  feared 
he  would  not  be  able  to  join  us,"  the  padre  re- 
sponded. 

The  senora  inclined  her  head  gravely.  "  He 
left  at  once,"  she  murmured;  then  turning  to  Bar- 
rington  she  continued:  "Our  business  interests 
throughout  the  state  are  sufficiently  large  to  cause 

[46] 


Clemencfa'0  Crisis 

us  great  uneasiness  over  the  tremendous  conspira- 
cies being  uncovered  In  some  of  our  large  cities." 

Barrlngton  was  aware,  of  course,  that  a  big  city 
in  California  was  in  the  throes  of  reform.  The 
gigantic  swindle  in  which  some  of  her  able  and 
most  distinguished  men  were  involved  was  being 
exposed.  The  papers  teemed  daily  with  thrilling 
accounts  of  the  wickedness  which  gradually  was 
being  uncovered. 

One  of  the  results  traced  to  it  was  a  bad  rail- 
road strike  which  affected  properties  in  which  the 
Senora  Castellanos  was  vitally  interested.  It  was 
eventually  proved  that  the  strike  was  Instigated 
by  leaders  of  the  great  steal.  But,  though  mem- 
bers of  the  gang  were  arrested  and  tried,  the 
"  man  higher  up  "  always  evaded  justice. 

At  this  particular  time  the  leaders  of  a  dis- 
astrous strike  that  tied  up  railroad  construction 
work  in  the  foothills  of  the  Sierras  were  being 
tried  for  a  crime  they  had  not  committed,  namely, 
throwing  chains  across  live  trolley  wires.  In  this 
short-circuiting  of  the  wires  a  great  deal  of  dam- 
age was  caused  to  the  power-houses,  and  many  of 
the  engineers  and  electricians  would  have  been 
killed  but  for  timely  warnings  from  some  mys- 

[47] 


Clemencia'0  Cri$i0 

terious  source.  The  men  themselves  were  always 
cautioned  about  the  danger  In  time  to  escape. 

It  was  to  these  events  that  the  senora  referred 
and  when  she  had  voiced  her  regret  that  Sanchez 
could  not  join  them  Harrington  said: 

"  It  was  doubly  kind  of  you  to  receive  me, 
Senora  Castellanos.  I  believe  you  usually  em- 
power Senor  Sanchez  to  complete  all  business 
arrangements." 

"  That  is  true,"  she  answered  coldly,  "  yet  I 
am  quite  Interested  In  this  particular  entertain- 
ment. It  will  be  the  first  time  In  years  that  I  have 
entered  Into  the  world." 

After  nearly  an  hour's  conversation  on  matters 
connected  with  the  coming  fete  the  senora  arose. 

''  Gentlemen,"  she  said,  '*  the  arrangements  so 
far  seem  satisfactory  and  we  will  now  join  my 
granddaughter  at  tea  In  the  patio/' 


I 


[48] 


ti^-l^^^    VO        ^ 


ib 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  patio  brimmed  with  flowers.  Roses  of 
every  shade  from  languid  white  to  livid 
pink  were  scattered  everywhere.  Sharp  scented 
jonquils  bound  by  pale  green  sheaths  sprang  up 
beside  vivid  yellow  mountain  popples.  Across  the 
corner  of  the  pergola  a  huge  Bougainvillea 
climbed  beside  a  Lady  Banksi  and  nearby,  under 
an  arch  of  splendid  color  and  fragrance  made  by 
the  rose  of  Ophlr,  sat  Senorlta  Castellanos. 

*' How  well  she  becomes  the  garden!"  was 
Harrington's  first  thought. 

His  eyes  must  have  expressed  his  admiration, 
for  she  colored  as  she  welcomed  him. 

[49] 


Clemencia'0  Crisis; 

Senora  Castellanos  and  the  priest  withdrew  to 
one  side  talking  so  earnestly  that  they  scarcely 
touched  the  tea  which  a  soft-footed  Spanish  boy 
was  serving.  In  a  few  minutes  more  they  had 
moved  out  of  sight  In  the  garden. 

The  young  people  sipped  their  tea  more  slowly 
and  presently  the  girl  said: 

"  Do  look  at  the  range,  Lieutenant  Harrington. 
Is  it  not  beautiful,  lying  veiled  in  the  blue  shadows 
of  the  afternoon?  The  loftier  peaks  with  their 
touches  of  snow  make  the  images  even  stronger." 

"  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  they  are  the  same 
mountains  that  I  crossed  only  a  few  days  ago," 
he  answered.  *'  Their  rugged  sides  are  concealed. 
The  streams  which  glide  down  the  gorges  can  only 
be  guessed  at  and  those  white  clouds  droop  like 
tassels  above  them." 

'^  I  love  the  range  at  this  time  of  day,"  Clemen- 
da  continued.  "  It  is  always  so  mysterious.  I 
am  glad  you  appreciate  it,  too,"  she  smiled. 

He  tried  to  keep  his  eyes  on  the  mountains  as 
she  had  bidden  him,  but  her  aureole  of  hair  like 
some  faint  yellow  flame  framing  her  face  In  golden 
light  was  distracting  and  far  more  attractive,  he 
thought. 

[50] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

The  low  tones  of  her  voice,  her  deep  brown 
eyes,  and  the  mystery  which  he  felt  somehow  en- 
veloped her,  all  combined  to  stir  the  man  in  him. 
She  was  perilously  sweet.  The  very  place  itself 
seemed  enchanted.  Below  them  the  town  hung 
like  a  scintillating  jewel  with  shafts  of  light  danc- 
ing over  it.  Beyond  it  the  cobalt  blue  of  the  ocean 
melted  into  greens  and  purples,  and  further  out 
the  wings  of  a  ship  stretched  white  and  gleaming. 

"  Miss  Castellanos,"  he  said  at  last,  "  Cali- 
fornia is  a  revelation  to  me  in  its  beauty." 

She  smiled  approval  and  he  continued.  "  In 
this  sunshine  the  columned  arches  and  the  yellow 
walls  of  your  home  glow  like  the  pages  of  old 
missals.  Why  do  your  Spanish  houses  have  that 
delightful  air  of  age?  American  homes  never 
do." 

"  Our  homes  do  possess  a  by-gone  quaintness," 
she  admitted. 

"  Like  your  people,  your  homes  will  always 
puzzle  Americans,  I  fear." 

"  Are  we  so  mysterious,  then?  " 

He  looked  at  her  intently.  He  was  straight- 
forward and  sincere  and  he  felt  he  would  like  to 
open  his  heart  to  her  —  tell  her  of  his  remarkable 

[SI] 


Clemencia'0  Crisis? 

dream  and  of  the  conviction  that  she  had  partly 
understood  when  he  had  spoken  to  her  of  miracles. 
But  he  did  not  dare.  He  had  met  her  only  twice, 
and  —  If  he  should  be  mistaken  —  if  she  had  no 
inkling  at  all  of  his  telepathic  feeling  — 

He  had  heard  of  cases  in  which  two  persons 
knew  exactly  the  same  thing  at  the  same  moment 
when  there  had  been  no  communication  between 
them,  but  they  had  been  those  who  had  been  inti- 
mately associated,  husbands  and  wives,  or  sweet- 
hearts. That  such  should  be  the  case  between 
persons  who  had  never  seen  each  other  seemed 
almost  Incredible.  No.  He  would  not  risk  telling 
her  until  he  knew  her  better.     He  could  wait. 

"  Lieutenant  Harrington,  do  you  know  that  you 
are  staring  at  me  and  that  you  have  not  answered 
my  question?  "  Clemencia  Interposed. 

Confused  at  being  caught  dreaming  he  replied 
Impulsively : 

"  A  thousand  pardons,  Senorita.  I  was  sur- 
prised that  you  of  all  persons  should  ask  me  that 
question." 

She  turned  white  and  again  he  caught  that 
frightened  look  which  had  so  puzzled  him  before. 
Then  she  said  hastily: 

[S2] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

"  Why  should  I  not  ask  the  question,  Lieutenant 
Barrington?  " 

It  was  his  turn  to  be  confused.  He  was  not 
prepared  to  speak  freely,  but  although  he  had  been 
impulsive  he  could  not  take  back  what  he  said 
without  allowing  her  to  think  him  either  rude  or 
untruthful.  So  bending  his  eyes  earnestly  upon 
her  he  replied  seriously: 

"  Senorita,  I  spoke  impulsively,  thoughtlessly. 
But  since  you  insist  —  yes,  I  had  a  reason.  It 
relates  to  the  miracle  I  prayed  for  at  the  mission, 
one  which  I  hoped  you  might  guess.  Let  me  cry 
your  mercy  and  explain  to  you  some  other  day." 

She  turned  hastily  away  without  replying,  but 
recovering  her  self-possession  quickly,  said: 

"  Come,  then.  Let  us  walk  through  the  gar- 
den and  find  Padre  Galvez  and  my  grandmother. 
The  chill  which  blows  from  the  Pacific  every  after- 
noon as  the  sun  lowers  is  here.    Do  you  feel  it?  " 


[S3] 


CHAPTER  XI 

IN  the  garden  Clemencia  recovered  her  self- 
possession  completely  and  told  Lieutenant 
Harrington  much  of  the  daily  routine  of  ranch  life 
in  California. 

Rows  of  camphor  trees  hedged  in  Senora  Cas- 
tellanos'  fences,  making  her  sequestration  perfect. 
Acre  after  acre  stretched  away  in  beautiful  seclu- 
sion. Below  the  knoll  the  railroad  threaded  the 
valley  and  carried  its  cramped  passengers  out  into 
the  great  world.  But  here  in  the  afternoon  sun- 
shine, under  the  shade  of  the  huge  pepper  trees, 
their  scarlet  berries  glinting  like  drops  of  blood 
against  a  blue  sky,  Harrington  saw  only  content. 

[54] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

As  they  joined  the  priest  and  the  mistress  of 
the  ranch,  the  priest  lifted  his  shovel-shaped  hat, 
bidding  the  senora  adieu;  he  then  turned  to  Cle- 
mencia. 

"  My  child,"  he  said,  "  you  did  not  wait  to  see 
me  after  mass  this  morning." 

"  But  I  shall  tomorrow.  Padre  Mia,"  she  an- 
swered affectionately. 

"  Ah !  That  is  better.  I  believe  I  always  begin 
the  day  better  after  talking  with  you,"  he  said,  still 
holding  her  hand. 

"  Padre,  you  spoil  Clemencia,"  gravely  chided 
the  older  woman. 

"  But  it  hasn't  hurt  her  much  —  eh,  Clemen- 
cia? "  rejoined  the  priest  teasingly. 

"And  so  you  go  to  mass  every  morning?" 
queried  Barrington. 

''  The  Spanish  woman  always  begins  her  day 
so,  sir,"  proudly  answered  the  girl. 

The  young  lieutenant  promptly  felt  within  him- 
self an  access  of  devotion  and  secretly  determined 
to  attend  mass  oftener. 

As  the  two  men  walked  down  the  hill  Barring- 
ton  could  not  refrain  from  asking  a  few  questions 
concerning  the  life  of  the  senora  and  her  grand- 

[55] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

daughter.  Padre  Galvez  shook  his  head  sadly  as 
he  answered: 

'*  It  is  a  dull  life  for  Clemencia.  She  has  so 
few  friends." 

"  But  surely  she  is  attractive  enough  to  have 
many,"  commented  the  young  man. 

"  True.  But  alas,  my  son,  there  never  was  a 
woman  who  inherited  more  strongly  the  pride  of 
old  Spain  than  Senora  Castellanos.  She  hates  all 
Americans." 

"Hates  Americans!"  exclaimed  the  officer. 
"Why?" 

"  She  has  had  reason  for  her  hatred,"  sighed 
the  priest.  "  It  was  because  of  her  daughter, 
Natika,  Clemencia's  mother.  Natika  was  charm- 
ing, but  she  loved  unhappily,  and  ran  away  with 
the  man  she  loved,  an  American.  She  was  high- 
spirited  and  proud  and  though  she  always  loved 
her  husband  their  married  life  was  not  congenial. 
Eventually  she  quarreled  with  him. 

"  The  mother,  grief  stricken  at  her  daughter's 
elopement,  bided  her  time,  and  when  at  last,  de- 
serted by  her  husband,  Natika  returned  with  little 
Clemencia,  the  senora  lavished  every  affection  and 
kindness  on  her  beloved.    But  it  was  too  late.  The 

[S6] 


CIemenna'$  Crisis 

young  wife  pined  for  the  man  who  had  won  her 
heart  and,  although  she  had  forced  him  to  leave 
her  because  of  her  violent  temper,  she  could  not 
recover  from  the  shock  of  the  separation." 

*'  And  she  died  then  without  ever  seeing  her 
husband  again?  "  Harrington  asked  softly. 

"  No.  He  returned  the  very  night  she  died. 
But  the  senora  in  a  passion  of  fury  denied  him 
entrance.  I  followed  him,  and  knowing  that  his 
repentance  was  sincere  and  that  his  love  had  never 
changed,  I  took  him  quietly  to  his  wife  and  they 
were  reconciled.    She  died  in  his  arms." 

For  a  moment  the  old  priest  was  overcome  by 
the  memory  of  that  day.  The  tears  were  rolling 
down  his  cheeks  and  he  could  not  speak.  Finally, 
however,  he  found  voice  to  add:  "  Maddened 
with  grief  and  remorse,  two  hours  after  his  wife's 
death  the  husband  killed  himself.  Can  you  won- 
der now  at  the  senora's  bitterness?  " 

Harrington  could  not  offer  a  word.  He  was 
appalled  at  the  story.  Padre  Galvez  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause  went  on. 

'*  The  senora's  sorrow  was  awful  to  contem- 
plate in  its  deadlike  stillness.  No  tears  would 
come  to  soften  her.     For  a  time  it  seemed  to  her 

[57] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

there  was  no  God.  But  after  a  while  her  soul 
came  back  to  her  church.  Only  the  Innocent  Cle- 
mencla  serves  as  a  reminder  of  her  tragic  past." 
"  Then  the  young  lady  is  not  a  Castellanos?  " 
*'  She  is  now.  The  senora  had  her  name 
changed  by  law." 


[58] 


CHAPTER  XII 

IT  took  all  Barrington's  will  power  to  prevent 
his  attending  mass  next  morning.  But  he 
thought  in  view  of  the  happenings  of  the  pre- 
vious day  that  it  would  be  better  to  wait.  Later 
in  the  day  he  called  upon  Mrs.  Helton. 

Unless  a  young  man  is  openly  in  love  with  a 
young  woman  and  prepared  to  admit  it,  it  is  little 
less  than  marvelous  to  note  the  diplomacy  and 
elaborate  strategy  he  will  resort  to  to  explain  his 
interest  in  her.  Lieutenant  Barrington,  knowing 
of  Miss  Castellanos'  betrothal,  was  willing  to  ad- 
mit a  stronger  interest  than  admiration  and  a 
desire  for  her  friendship  during  the  two  months 
he  was  to  spend  in  and  about  Santa  Barbara. 

The  remarkable  telepathic  communication  given 
in  the  dream  prior  to  his  acquaintance  with  her 
was  sufficient  excuse,  he  thought,  for  the  keen 
interest  he  was  taking  in  her.  He  felt  he  had  a 
right  to  tell  her  of  this  dream.  Indeed,  he  was 
almost   certain   from   things   that   had  occurred 

[59] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0{0 

since  his  vision  that  he  had  a  right  to  ask  her  for 
the  explanation  he  beheved  she  could  give. 

But  he  wanted  to  be  assured  that  she  did  need 
his  assistance.  Something  troubled  her,  he  was 
certain.  During  both  their  two  short  talks  he  had 
caught  that  unhappy  look  for  a  moment  in  her 
eyes.  So  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  remembered 
this,  "  She  Is  not  happy.  One  can  see  it  written 
in  her  face." 

He  would  get  Mrs.  Helton  to  speak  of  her 
friendship  with  Miss  Castellanos.  In  this  way  he 
might  learn  something  of  the  Spanish  girl's  per- 
sonality, her  moods,  her  likes  and  dislikes,  her 
favorite  occupations. 

"  I  would  never  have  known  Clemencia  had  it 
not  been  for  Padre  Galvez,"  Mrs.  Helton  replied 
to  his  question  as  to  how  the  acquaintance  began. 
"  And  I  love  him  because  of  her." 

*'  Tell  me  about  it,"  he  urged. 

"  I'll  go  back  to  the  time  I  saw  her  first,"  said 
Mrs.  Helton.  "  She  was  Indolent  and  graceful, 
and  with  her  large  brown  eyes  and  sun-colored 
hair  she  gave  promise  even  then  of  the  remarkable 
beauty  she  possesses  today." 

"  She   is  wonderfully  attractive,"    he   echoed. 

[60] 


Clemencfa'0  Cri0i0 

"  Old  beliefs,  like  fairy  legends,  linger  long,'' 
Mrs.  Helton  continued.  "  It  Is  hard  to  kill  tradi- 
tion. The  Senora  Castellanos  wanted  only  Span- 
ish associations  for  her  granddaughter.  But  there 
came  at  last  a  day  of  reckoning.  Padre  Galvez 
called  the  mistress  of  the  ranch  to  strict  account, 
and  she  was  obliged  to  listen  to  his  arguments." 

'*  How  thrilling,"  smiled  Barrlngton.  "  But 
what  in  the  world  did  he  do?  " 

"  He  is  wonderful  and  he  did  wonders.  Only 
an  echo  of  what  happened  reached  me,  but  It  came 
straight  because  Clemencia  was  present." 

*'Ah!" 

"In  a  tone  of  bitter  hatred  the  senora  said: 
'  I  scorn  the  Americans  as  individuals.' 

*'  '  But  they  are  strong,'  replied  the  padre. 
'  You  cannot  Ignore  them  collectively.' 

*'  Then,  seeing  Clemencia,  the  senora  sent  her 
from  the  room.  The  padre  must  have  possessed 
a  strong  weapon,  though,  for  that  night  after  sup- 
per the  grandmother  sent  for  the  girl.  '  Clemen- 
cia,' she  said,  '  I  shall  send  you  away  to  school.' 

''  *  To  school!  Where?  '  asked  the  astonished 
girl. 

"  *  To  the  convent  at  Los  Angeles.' 
[6i] 


Clemencia'0  Crisis 

"  *  But,  grandmamma,  I  don't  understand.  I 
shall  meet  American  children.  I  am  not  sure  that 
I  wish  to  go.' 

"  '  It  Is  not  a  question  of  your  wishes,'  said  the 
senora,  sternly.     '  You  will  be  sent.' 

*'  '  But  you  have  never  allowed  me  even  to 
notice  Americans  as  we  drove  through  the  streets 
of  Santa  Barbara.  Now  you  wish  me  to  be  with 
them.  I  shall  hate  them,'  came  the  girl's  angry 
response. 

"  The  senora's  eyes  glittered  a  moment  with  a 
strangely  contented  look.  But  she  did  not  soften 
as  she  continued  coldly:  'You  will  not  question 
my  will.    You  are  to  go  the  day  after  tomorrow.' 

"  Clemencla  dared  not  say  more  to  the  stern 
old  woman  who  sat  unbending  In  her  stiff-backed 
chair.  But  she  never  forgot  that  night  In  the 
library.  The  flicker  of  the  fire  behind  the  spar^ 
kling  brass  andirons  glowed  on  the  white  walns- 
cotted  walls,  tinging  them  with  a  deep  yellow. 
The  candle  light  from  the  high  sconces  burned 
high  and  brilliantly.  The  yellow  damask  pillows 
on  the  sofa  shone  like  suns  until  the  child's  eyes 
seemed  to  feel  they  were  gazing  into  a  golden  sea. 
There  is  no  embarrassment  quite  like  that  of  lis- 

[62] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

tenlng  to  one  whom  you  must  obey  and  yet  fear  to 
question.  Clemencla's  mind  was  bewildered,  she 
told  me.  Coils  of  black  smoke  seemed  to  arise  out 
of  the  yellow  sea  of  light  to  blind  her.  The 
candles  bleared,  the  fire  dimmed.  Almost  choking 
with  despair  she  said  faintly: 

''  '  I  do  not  wish  to  go  among  American  stran- 
gers,' but  even  while  she  voiced  her  objection  the 
superior  will  dominated." 

"  How  old  was  she  then?  "  asked  Harrington. 

**  About  fourteen.  I  was  nearly  eighteen,  but 
we  loved  each  other  from  the  first." 


[63] 


CHAPTER  XIII 


IT  was  not  until  the  third  day  after  this  that 
Lieutenant  Harrington  joined  Clemencia  at 
mass.  After  that  it  became  a  daily  occurrence  that 
he  should  accompany  her  on  her  morning  rides, 
and  when  he  saw  her  in  close-fitting  riding  habit, 
her  small  hat  crowning  her  golden  hair,  coming 
toward  him  in  the  early  morning  sunshine,  he 
always  felt  repaid  for  any  loss  of  sleep  this  early 
devotion  entailed. 

"  Come,"  he  said  one  morning,  "  let  us  pass 
under  the  stately  eucalyptus  and  pepper  trees  until 
we  come  to  that  old  Spanish  house  with  the  low 
adobe  one-story  and  tiled  roof." 

"The  old  De  la  Guerra  house?"  she  asked. 
"  Do  you  love  it,  too?  " 

[64] 


In  the  Montecito  Valley 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

"  I  know  It  is  enchanted.  Every  one  of  its 
fascinating  legends  fills  me  with  awe,"  he  laughed. 

They  set  forth  at  a  gallop.  From  the  De  la 
Guerra  place,  crossing  the  town  past  the  foreign 
poplar  trees,  they  rode  into  the  Montecito  Valley. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  sun  flowers,  lilacs,  and 
morning  glories?  "  she  asked. 

"  Never,"  he  answered,  "  and  this  is  March." 

*'  Strangers  never  see  our  California,"  replied 
Clemencia  somewhat  sadly.  ''  They  come  in 
winter,  and  it  is  summer  which  is  our  loveliest 
season.  You  should  see  the  spikes  of  the  snowy 
yucca  rising  out  of  their  sharp-pointed  leaves  then. 
That  is  a  sight  not  easily  forgotten." 

"  There  is  a  spell  in  this  wonderful  California, 
Miss  Castellanos  —  one  I  could  never  deny." 

But  he  continued  lightly,  "  If  this  witchery 
which  causes  one  to  remember  every  trivial  inci- 
dent In  this  sunny  clime  is  more  enticing,  more 
developed  in  summer,  perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  I 
cannot  remain."  There  was  a  lightness  in  his 
speech  but  a  certain  intensity  of  tone  that  caused 
the  girl  to  color  slightly. 

*'  Ah,  even  in  your  short  stay  you  have  felt 
it,  tool  " 

166-] 


Clemencia'0  Crf0i0 

"  I  have  felt  It  strongly  —  more  than  the  ordi- 
nary sojourner,  I  think,  for  already  two  wonderful 
mysteries  have  come  to  me." 

He  broke  off  abruptly,  thinking  first  of  his 
experience  with  the  nun  and  then  of  his  dream  of 
Clemencia. 

He  was  not  particularly  susceptible  to  feminine 
charm  —  not  more  so  than  the  average  man  — 
and  had  known  the  spell  of  companionship  with 
delightful  women.  But  until  he  had  met  Clemencia 
no  woman  had  really  attracted  him.  He  recalled 
with  a  smile  that  an  observing  friend  had  once 
said  to  him : 

"  Barrlngton,  you  are  too  coolly  analytical  of 
women  to  really  enjoy  them." 

But  this  girl  stirred  his  soul.  She  interested  and 
mystified  him.  Was  it  her  cool,  clear,  reasoning 
mind,  her  poise,  or  her  really  exquisite  beauty  that 
held  him? 

Often  her  words  suggested  little  undercurrents 
of  thought  which  turned  his  own  mind  Into  deeper 
channels.  She  was  certainly  a  girl  of  Individual 
ideas.     One  morning  she  observed  oracularly: 

*'  Tastes  and  sympathies  in  common  are  abso- 
lutely necessary  for  happiness." 

[67] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

"  I  differ  with  you  there,"  answered  Barrington, 
taking  up  the  gauntlet. 

"  But  it  is  impossible  to  be  happy  unless  people 
agree !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"Are  we  discussing  friendship  or  love?" 
laughed  her  companion. 

"  Both,"  she  replied.  "  One  cannot  differen- 
tiate." 

"  Again  I  beg  to  differ.  Something  tells  me 
that  differences  of  opinion  are  not  incompatible 
with  happiness." 

But  Clemencia  was  not  to  be  convinced  by  such 
argument. 

"  Intuition  is  all  very  well  in  some  cases,"  she 
said.  "  But  if  a  determined  nature  meets  another 
with  a  strain  of  iron  in  the  blood  unhappiness  must 
surely  follow." 

"  Not  necessarily.  Inflexible  as  such  natures 
may  be,  love  is  stronger." 

"Is  love  then  so  wonderful  a  thing?"  asked 
the  girl.  "  To  me  it  has  always  seemed  incom- 
prehensible." 

Barrington  was  silent.  The  remark  seemed 
flippant.  For  a  betrothed  girl  it  was  curiously  out 
of  place,  he  thought.  He  looked  at  her  search- 
[68] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

ingly,  but  she  showed  no  embarrassment  whatever. 
So  he  ignored  the  lightness  of  her  speech  and 
answered  seriously: 

"  Yes,  love,  they  say,  is  wonderful.  Those 
whom  the  divine  spark  has  touched  with  love  for 
each  other  never  need  have  any  fear  of  serious 
friction." 

He  was  watching  her  steadily.  She  was  not  for 
him.  She  was  "  forbidden  fruit."  His  thoughts 
must  not  dwell  upon  her.  Yet  try  as  he  would  he 
could  not  control  them.  He  found  himself  ana- 
lyzing her,  trying  to  fathom  her  feeling  for  the 
other  man.  What  manner  of  man  was  he  whom 
she  had  chosen?  His  name  was  never  mentioned. 
Did  he  appreciate  the  wonderful  charm  of  the 
woman  who  had  pledged  herself  to  him?  And 
her  curious  remark  about  love  ?  Did  she  not  know 
its  meaning  yet? 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts.  Lieutenant  Har- 
rington! "  Clemencia's  voice  interrupted  his 
reverie. 

He  flushed.  ''  I  was  debating  your  curious 
views  of  love,"  he  answered,  "  and  how  easily  I 
could  shatter  them." 

For  a  moment  her  own  face  reflected  his  color, 

[69] 


Clemenaa'0  Cri0i0 

but  she  quickly  recovered  herself,  and  speaking 
lightly  said: 

"Oh,  do  explain!" 

"  There  are  two  people  I  know  who,  tested  by 
your  theory,  are  unsuited  to  each  other.  Yet  they 
have  lived  many  years  in  perfect  accord." 

''  Oh,  then,  they  could  not  have  been  incom- 
patible!" 

"  But  they  were,  really.  She  was  very  worldly. 
He  was  a  student,  a  lawyer,  and  indifferent  to 
society.  She  was  a  devout  Catholic.  He  was  a 
Protestant.  They  had  not  the  same  point  of  view 
in  anything." 

"  And  were  they  really  happy?  " 

''  Absolutely  so." 

"  And  you  think  it  was  love  that  gave  them 
happiness?" 

"  Their  natures  were  absolute  contrasts. 
Therefore  it  was  love  alone  that  did  it.  What 
else  could  it  have  been?  " 

Again  the  girl  flushed.  "  Do  tell  me  of  them, 
please." 

*'  She  was  the  daughter  of  an  Irish  nobleman 
and  was  exquisite  in  face  and  mind.  Her  father 
held  a  responsible  position  at  the  English  court, 

[70] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

although  most  of  his  time  was  spent  In  his  home 
in  Ireland. 

"  However,  it  was  in  England  that  the  man  met 
her  first.  He  was  an  American.  His  father  was 
ambassador  to  the  court  of  St.  James.  The  Irish 
maiden,  with  her  brilliant  beauty  and  superb 
health,  was  wonderfully  attractive  and  when  the 
young  American  carried  her  off  across  the  sea  as 
his  bride  it  was  not  without  protest  from  many  a 
young  English  nobleman  who  had  paid  her 
homage.  But,  though  he  had  won  her  fairly,  he 
had  fought  a  hard  battle,  and  for  two  winters  he 
had  struggled,  scarcely  knowing  from  day  to  day 
whether  he  could  ever  claim  her." 

"She  was  beautiful,  you  say?"  interrupted 
Clemencia. 

*'  Beautiful,  fascinating  beyond  description,  but 
very  imperious.  She  had  no  desire  to  go  to 
America.  Save  for  the  one  important  fact  that 
she  was  madly  in  love  nothing  could  have  dragged 
her  there.  Indeed,  she  fought  hard  to  escape  her 
captor  and  did  not  hesitate  to  tell  him  frankly 
that  it  was  against  her  reason  and  her  will  that  he 
had  won  her  heart. 

"  At  times  she  was  so  stormily  certain  that  she 

[71] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

could  never  make  up  her  mind  to  marry  him  and 
leave  Ireland,  her  beloved  home,  that  he  almost 
lost  courage  and  wondered  (although  he  knew 
that  she  loved  him)  whether  he  really  could  make 
her  happy." 

"  How  long  were  they  betrothed?  " 

"  Two  years,  during  which  time  she  wrote  more 
than  once  to  him,  '  I  have  changed  my  mind.  I 
am  sure  I  do  not  love  you.'  And  then  before  the 
time  necessary  for  the  letter  to  reach  him  had 
gone  by  he  would  get  a  cablegram  saying: 
'  Believe  nothing  in  my  letter!  ' 

*'  The  lover  in  his  law  office  would  feel  a  great 
depression.  He  would  guess  in  advance  the  con- 
tents of  that  letter,  and  he  would  say  to  himself: 
'  If  she  is  so  uncertain  of  herself,  should  I  not 
release  her?'  But  he  could  never  bring  himself 
to  the  point  of  giving  her  up  so  long  as  his 
imperious  lady  gave  him  the  slightest  spark  of 
hope.  So  when  he  read  the  letter  he  turned  to 
the  cablegram  for  consolation  and  held  to  the 
engagement  through  all  the  perilous  storms." 

"  How  splendid  of  him  to  be  so  patient!  And 
you  say  that  he  got  his  reward?  " 

"  Yes.    One  day  she  came  to  him  clad  in  shim- 

[72] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

merlng  white  and  clouds  of  misty  veiling,  with  a 
love  light  In  her  eyes  that  was  unmistakable.  That 
light  has  held  undimmed  through  all  the  years 
since." 

"  What  a  wonderful  love  story !  It  quite  thrills 
me.    Who  was  the  woman?  "  . 

"  Maude  Arslan,  my  mother." 

For  a  moment  Clemencia  was  silent.  Then  she 
said  almost  harshly: 

"  What  a  beautiful  atmosphere  you  must  have 
been  brought  up  in!  " 

*'  But  there  are  many  such  people  In  the  world, 
I  am  sure,"  Harrington  responded. 

Clemencia  sat  for  a  moment  lost  in  thought. 
'*  I  wonder  I  did  not  guess  your  story,"  she  said 
presently,  "  for  It  seems  to  me  I  have  heard  some- 
thing of  the  same  before."  Again  she  sat  musing 
and  Barrington,  rather  nonplussed  at  her  words, 
made  no  attempt  to  cross-question  her. 

"  Padre  Galvez  has  told  me  something  of  your 
history,"  the  girl  volunteered,  at  last,  ''  though 
he  did  not  mention  any  names.  The  devotion  of 
your  mother  must  have  been  wonderful." 

"  Yes,  but  she  tells  my  father  now  that  In  those 
stormy  days  of  courtship  she  was  showing  only 

[73] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

primitive  woman  rebelling  at  the  thought  of  bond- 
age. Once  married  she  knew  that  she  should  do 
him  homage  forever." 

"  Then  your  father  is  not  a  Catholic?  " 
**  No.  But  his  mind  is  broad.  The  Arslans  of 
Ireland  have  been  of  the  faith  for  centuries  and 
even  here  in  America  that  faith  is  so  welded  with 
history  that  it  challenges  his  admiration.  He 
cannot  read  a  page  of  the  story  of  the  early  days 
of  his  country  nor  of  a  battle  fought  which  does 
not  bear  the  weight  of  the  Catholic  clergy.  But  I 
have  told  you  a  long  story  when  I  meant  only  to 
convince  you  that  love  can  exist  for  persons  who 
are  supposed  to  be  absolutely  unsuited  by  nature." 


[74] 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  FEW  mornings  later  on  the  streets  of  Santa 
Barbara  Lieutenant  Barrington  almost  col- 
lided with  a  woman  who  came  suddenly  out  of  a 
store.  He  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the 
pretty  Spanish  girl  whom  he  had  met  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town  on  the  day  of  his  arrival.  She 
was  dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion  and  was  about 
to  step  into  a  carriage.  He  recognized  her  at  once 
and  instinctively  put  his  hand  to  his  hat.  But  the 
girl  regarded  him  haughtily,  giving  no  sign  of 
recognition.  With  head- held  high  and  the  coolest 
of  stares  she  said  as  plainly  as  if  she  had  spoken 
the  words:  "  I  do  not  know  you  at  all.  I  never 
saw  you  before." 

Barrington  could  scarcely  suppress  his  mirth. 
She  was  certainly  a  cool  one.  The  girl  was  even 
prettier  in  street  clothes  than  in  her  riding  habit. 
He  wondered  vaguely  what  her  name  was  and 
what  could  have  been  her  quarrel  with  that  good- 
looking  Spanish  husband.     In  a  little  while,  how- 

[75] 


Clemencia'$  Cri0i0 


ever,  when  the  carriage  had 
^^4^m  passed   from  his   sight,   he 
put  her  out  of  his  mind. 

The   third   time  he  met 
her,   though,   he   could  not 
get  her  out  of  his  thoughts 
quite  so  easily.     In  fact,  he  pon- 
dered  a  good  while   about  her 
and  found  himself  feeling  a  de- 
gree of  responsibility  which  he 
did  not  relish.    Even  after  many 
days  of  consideration  he  was  no  nearer  a  solution. 

[76] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0is! 

For  his  third  view  of  her  was  in  the  library  of 
Senora  Castellanos'  home.  She  was  seated  In 
front  of  a  typewriter  taking  dictation  from  the 
older  woman.  The  officer  had  called  by  appoint- 
ment in  regard  to  detailed  arrangements  for  the 
reception  of  the  fleet. 

"  Lieutenant  Barrlngton,"  said  the  senora, 
"  Miss  Morro,  the  secretary  from  my  business 
office  in  Santa  Barbara.  I  thought  Miss  Morro 
could  be  of  assistance  to  us  this  morning.  She  is 
an  expert  typist." 

Harrington  bowed,  eyeing  the  girl  steadily.  The 
young  woman  inclined  her  head  quietly  in  return. 
She  gave  no  sign  of  recognition,  but  he  fancied  he 
saw  a  faint  rise  of  color  in  her  cheeks. 

The  officer  was  certainly  a  bit  disturbed  over 
the  senora's  introduction  of  her  secretary.  The 
young  woman  whom  he  had  so  valiantly  defended 
was  not  married  then !  Yet  what  other  construc- 
tion could  he  put  upon  the  Spaniard's  words, 
"  This  woman  is  mine!  " 

Harrington  tried  to  argue  that  it  was  none  of 
his  business  anyway.  Why  should  he  concern 
himself  about  her?  Yet  he  could  not  help  being 
strongly  dissatisfied  at  finding  her  in  so  confiden- 

[77] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

tial  a  relation  to  Senora  Castellanos.  In  spite  of 
himself,  the  feeling  of  responsibility  increased. 
He  resented  It.  Why  should  a  common  quarrel 
between  a  man  and  a  woman  whom  he  had  never 
seen  before  so  disturb  him?  But  the  fact  that 
Miss  Morro  had  tacitly  admitted  being  the  man's 
wife  and  was  now  allowing  herself  to  be  presented 
to  him  as  an  unmarried  woman,  offering  no 
explanation,  did  worry  him.  He  determined  to 
find  out  something  about  her.  All  Inquiries  elicited 
merely  the  information  that  she  had  been  in  the 
senora's  employ  for  about  five  years,  was  her 
confidential  secretary  and  was  highly  respected  by 
the  older  woman.  After  a  few  hours  spent  In 
her  presence  Barrlngton  was  himself  Impressed 
by  her  air  of  candor. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  mused,   "  whether  I  did  not 
dream  that  scene  on  the  roadway,  also." 


[78] 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  DAY  or  two  later  Barrlngton  received  a 
note  from  Mrs.  Helton  saying,  "  Will  you 
come  to  my  house  party?  " 

He  went,  hoping  that  he  would  meet  Clemencla, 
but  the  girl  was  not  there.  Guessing  his  disap- 
pointment, his  hostess  whispered: 

*'  Clemencia  comes  tomorrow,  but  alas !  the  man 
who  dominates  her  comes  also." 

"What  man?"  inquired  the  young  officer, 
paling  a  little  at  the  announcement. 

"  Her  cousin,  Senor  Sanchez.  I  dared  not  ask 
her  without  him.  Senora  Castellanos  might  have 
refused  to  let  her  come." 

"  From  various  hints  you  have  dropped,  Mrs. 
Helton,  it  is  easy  to  guess  that  Senor  Sanchez  is 
the  happy  man." 

"Happy  man?"  asked  Mrs.  Helton  in  sur- 
prise. 

"The  fiance  —  the  lover,"  answered  Barring- 
ton  with  a  lightness  he  was  far  from  feeling. 

[79] 


Clemencia'0  Crisis; 

She  stared  at  him  a  moment  with  a  puzzled 
look. 

"  Oh!  Do  you  always  jump  at  conclusions  so 
quickly?  " 

"  Well,  am  I  wrong  in  guessing  that  Senor 
Sanchez  is  a  bit  jealous,  loves  her  desperately,  and 
fears  to  give  the  attractive  Miss  Castellanos  too 
much  freedom?  " 

"  He  loves  her  desperately,  of  course.  The 
Spaniards  always  do.  But  Senor  Sanchez  is  too 
selfish  to  love  anybody  but  himself  very  thor- 
oughly.'* 

"  Evidently  he  is  not  in  your  good  graces." 

"  Indeed,  he  is  not.  He  always  gives  me  the 
creeps.  But  cheer  up !  Though  I  have  asked 
him  here  for  two  days,"  she  laughed  merrily,  *'  I 
was  very  careful  not  to  include  him  in  the  invita- 
tion to  motor  to  Coronado  for  the  arrival  of  the 
fleet." 

"  He  will  not  be  one  of  the  party,  then?  " 

"  He  would  spoil  Clemencia's  pleasure,  and 
besides,"  mockingly,  "  I  have  asked  you.  You 
are  not  afraid  to  go,  are  you,  even  though 
Clemencia  is  pledged?  " 

He  flushed,  for  her  insinuation  was  plain.    He 

[80] 


Clemencia'0  Crisis; 

knew  that  she  was  aware  of  his  morning  rides 
with  Miss  Castellanos. 

^'  I  am  not  afraid,"  he  answered,  giving  back 
her  smile,  "  but,"  he  added,  "  tell  me  more  of 
Miss  Castellanos  and  her  engagement." 

''  Not  a  word,"  she  retorted.  "  Not  a  word. 
The  subject  is  taboo  with  me.  Clemencia  knows 
that  I  do  not  approve  of  it,  but  I  will  not  discuss 
it.  If  you  are  to  hear  more  on  that  subject  she 
herself  must  be  your  informant.  I  reiterate  my 
warning,  however.  Save  your  heart.  Do  not 
care  too  much.  The  step  she  is  about  to  take  is 
inevitable." 

"  It  will  be  soon,  then?  " 

"  In  less  than  six  months." 

As  she  finished,  half  laughingly,  half  seriously, 
she  gave  the  signal  to  rise  and  left  him  to  ponder 
over  her  words.  She  was  well  aware  of  the 
officer's  growing  interest  in  her  friend,  but  she 
challenged  it.  She  said  to  herself:  "  It  does  not 
concern  me  and,  apparent  as  It  is,  I  have  warned 
him.  Now  the  matter  rests  in  Clemencia's  own 
hands." 


[8i] 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  ancients  looked  upon  nature  with  charm- 
ing error.  They  were  dazzled  by  the 
presence  of  Imaginary  gods.  But  It  Is  strange 
that  with  all  our  mature  conviction  we  are  still 
subtly  Impressed  by  the  mysterious.  Like  the 
wonderful  carpet  fairy  legend  gives  us  which 
traverses  all  space  at  Its  master's  call  and  then 
obeys  his  command,  mystery  floats  undulating, 
trembling,  held  by  unseen  hands,  weaving  a  spell 
to  bind  us  to  expectancy  of  some  greater  revelation 
close  at  hand.  And  so  Arslan  Harrington,  all 
unconsciously,  was  slowly  but  surely  entering  those 
dangerous  seas  on  which  many  a  better  mariner 
has  been  wrecked. 

The  young  officer  had  been  restless  all  day  and 
late  In  the  afternoon  was  returning  from  a  vig- 
orous walk  In  the  canyon  back  of  the  San  Isidro 
Inn.  Immersed  in  thought,  he  strode  rapidly 
forward,  scarcely  conscious  of  the  beautiful  sur- 
roundings, which  perhaps  was  just  what  could  be 

[82] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

expected  of  a  young  man  whose  mental  vision 
was  bounded  by  the  face  of  a  girl  with  an  appeal 
in  her  lovely  eyes  and  whose  hair  shone  like  gold. 

Suddenly  the  stillness  of  the  place  was  broken 
by  the  angry  tones  of  a  man  speaking  Spanish: 
"  Unless  you  wish  to  be  held  among  that  light 
class  of  women  whom  the  world  condemns  for 
fickleness  of  purpose  you  must  keep  faith." 

Unconsciously  Barrington  stopped  and  as  he 
did  so  there  came  in  lower  tones  the  sound  of  a 
woman's  voice  seemingly  in  gentle  remonstrance. 
He  could  not  distinguish  the  words,  but  when  she 
had  finished  the  man  spoke  again  irritably: 

''  Just  like  a  woman.  For  a  whim  you  seek 
excuse  to  change  your  mind.  A  vow  such  as  you 
have  solemnly  given  cannot  be  broken  lightly. 
It  would  be  apostasy  —  save  for  one  reason  I 
have  given  you." 

"  I  have  not  said  that  I  desired  to  break  it," 
interrupted  the  other  hastily.  ''  I  spoke  only  of 
conscientious  qualms  —  that  perhaps  after  all  I 
was  unsuited." 

They  were  coming  toward  him,  and  with  a 
thrill   Barrington   recognized   Clemencia's   voice. 

*'  Then,"  pleaded  the  man  in  a  milder  tone, 

[83] 


Clemencia's!  Cri0i$ 

"  think  well  of  all  I  have  said,  Clemencia.  Marry 
me  at  once.  That  would  solve  the  difficulty.  Your 
grandmother  would  soon  —  " 

"  Say  no  more,"  the  girl  answered  nervously. 
"  I  will  keep  my  word.  I  will  hold  to  my  pledge, 
but  I  will  speak  no  more  on  this  subject  for  six 
months." 

The  lieutenant  moved  forward  and  a  turn  in 
the  path  revealed  Miss  Castellanos  and  a  man. 

Clemencia's  face  showed  her  agitation  and  dis- 
tress, but  he  hardly  noticed  her  in  his  hurried 
recognition  of  her  companion.  It  was  the  Span- 
iard who  had  treated  Miss  Morro  so  brutally! 

This,  then,  was  the  lover!  His  instinct  had 
not  misled  him  in  his  first  dislike  of  the  man. 
Clemencia  must  have  noticed  the  consternation 
in  his  face,  but  she  said  calmly: 

"  Lieutenant  Harrington,  my  cousin,  Senor 
Sanchez." 

For  a  moment  Harrington  was  speechless.  He 
acknowledged  the  Spaniard's  greetings  with  a  bow 
and  then  recovering  himself  said  curtly: 

*'  We  have  met  before." 

Both  men  were  irritated  and  the  attitude  of  the 
one  to  the  other  was  decidedly  antagonistic.    That 

[84] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

much  was  apparent  to  Clemencia  and  she  could 
not  help  exclaiming:  "You  have  met  before  — 
where?  " 

With  an  ugly  laugh  her  cousin  said: 

"  Do  not  insist  upon  an  answer.  Lieutenant 
Barrington  and  I  are  doomed  to  have  inopportune 
encounters." 

Barrington^s  eyes  flamed  at  the  rudeness  of  the 
remark,  but  he  kept  his  temper. 

"  I  quite  agree  with  Senor  Sanchez,  Senorita," 
he  responded.  "  This  meeting  seems  even  more 
unpleasant  than  the  last." 

Bowing  gravely  to  Clemencia  as  he  passed  he 
then  lifted  his  hat  to  the  man.  For  the  fraction 
of  a  second  their  glances  met  and  held.  In  the 
brilliant  black  eyes  of  the  Spaniard  flashed  inso- 
lence and  a  gleam  of  something  like  hatred.  In 
the  steel-blue  orbs  of  the  young  officer  contempt 
was  plainly  visible.     In  cutting  tones  he  said: 

"  Senor  Sanchez,  I  desire  even  more  earnestly 
than  before  the  fulfillment  of  the  wish  I  made 
when  last  we  parted." 

He  was  furious  at  the  man's  insolence,  and  his 
fists  ached  at  the  restraint  he  had  put  upon  them. 
Furthermore,  it  angered  him  that  the  Spaniard 

[85] 


Cleimnna'0  Cti0{0 

with  his  flashing  black   eyes,   white   teeth,    dark 
mustache  and  fine  figure  was  certainly  handsome. 

But  was  a  girl  of  Clemencia's  type  to  be  dom- 
inated by  the  spirit  of  such  a  man?  He  was 
utterly  unworthy  of  her.  Not  only  his  behavior 
with  Miss  Morro  needed  an  explanation  of  the 
fullest  sort,  but  his  whole  manner  indicated  that 
he  was  not  built  on  lines  which  a  woman  could 
respect.  After  his  two  encounters  with  him  Har- 
rington was  willing  to  swear  that  a  girl  of 
Clemencia's  lofty  ideals  and  mentality  could  not 
be  won  by  such  a  man.  Yet  she  was  engaged 
to  him  I 

At  dinner  that  night  Clemencia  was  unusually 
silent.  Over  the  whole  party,  in  fact,  there  seemed 
to  fall  a  kind  of  restraint.  Mrs.  Helton,  excellent 
hostess  that  she  was,  recognized  it  and  with  her 
woman's  wit  determined  to  offset  it.  She  turned 
to  the  man  who  sat  next  to  her  and  said: 

"  I  propose  that  we  all  tell  a  story." 

"Good!"  came  the  answer.  "But  of  what 
kind?" 

"  Oh,    anything.      A    personal    experience,    a 
sudden  impression  —  really,  any  criticism  or  com- 
plaint will  pass,"  she  finished  laughingly. 
[86] 


Clemencfa'0  Cri0i0 

'*  Well,  as  the  Instigator  of  the  conspiracy  you 
must  begin,"  her  neighbor  replied. 

Anecdotes  and  short  stories  followed  each  other 
in  quick  succession,  but  when  It  came  Harrington's 
turn  he  found  himself  unprepared.  The  depres- 
sion which  had  followed  his  experience  of  the 
afternoon  was  still  strong  upon  him. 

''  May  I  just  pay  a  compliment?  "  he  asked. 

**  Yes,  if  it  is  a  very  nice  one,"  answered  his 
hostess. 

"  You  have  the  finest  country  club  I  ever  saw." 

A  ripple  of  pleasure  went  round  the  table. 
Their  country  club  was  their  delight. 

''  Thank  you,  lieutenant,  and  may  I  hope  you 
do  not  condemn  us  as  always  drinking  cocktails 
and  playing  bridge  as  so  many  visitors  do?  "  said 
Mrs.  Helton. 

"  Oh,  no;  your  country  club  Is  not  only  for  the 
rich  who  enjoy  It  because  of  the  cool  oysters,  iced 
champagne,  and  black  coffee  to  be  had  there.  I 
admired  especially  the  athletic  youths  and  maidens 
I  saw  there  with  their  golf,  tennis,  and  horseback 
riding." 

"  Evidently  Lieutenant  Harrington  likes  only 
the  hatless  amazons?  "  Interposed  Senor  Sanchez, 

[87] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

leaning  forward.  There  was  a  veiled  contempt 
in  his  tone  as  if  he  would  belittle  the  admiration 
Arslan  had  expressed. 

"  I  like  the  independence  of  the  life,"  calmly 
answered  Harrington.  "  The  Gibson  girl  with 
her  high-bred  air  expressive  of  character  and  dis- 
dain is  more  to  my  taste  than  the  maidens  of  our 
grandmothers'  days." 

"  And  you  believe  the  country  club  responsible 
for  the  change?"  asked  Sanchez. 

"  I  believe  the  country  club  is  helping  our  youth, 
and  that  by  its  aid  we  are  building  a  nobility  for 
America  to  be  proud  of  —  the  nobility  of  robust 
health." 

'*  Beautiful  sentiments,  undoubtedly,"  laughed 
the  Spaniard.  "  But  to  my  mind  there  are  higher 
aspirations." 

He  was  looking  straight  at  Harrington  as  he 
spoke.  There  was  nothing  in  the  words  them- 
selves to  challenge  anger  particularly.  But  some- 
how his  manner  always  seemed  aggressive  when 
he  addressed  the  young  officer. 

"  My  story,"  said  Sanchez,  when  it  came  his 
turn,  "  is  of  a  different  type  of  woman  —  one 
you  cannot  fail  to  admire.  It  is  of  the  unselfish 
[88] 


Clemencia'0  Cn$i0 

woman  who  believes  It  better  to  have  Ideals  and 
to  live  up  to  them !  " 

He  had  turned  to  his  hostess  and  was  now 
speaking  directly  to  her.  She  grew  restless  under 
his  gaze  and  answered  nervously: 

"  I  hate  the  woman  who  Is  always  making 
sacrifices.     It  does  not  seem  fair." 

"  But  she,  after  all,  Is  the  woman  whom  the 
world  glorifies,  is  she  not?  "  queried  Sanchez. 

"  Perhaps.  But  one  thing  is  certain.  She  never 
gets  any  happiness  out  of  it  herself." 

The  white  teeth  of  Sanchez  gleamed  In  amuse- 
ment as  he  said: 

"  As  happiness  Is  only  relative,  madame,  who 
will  say  that  she  does  not?  " 


[89] 


CHAPTER  XVII 

SANCHEZ  swept  a  challenging  glance  around 
the  table,  but  as  no  one  was  disposed  to  debate 
with  him  the  question  of  what  constitutes  happi- 
ness, he  commenced  his  story. 

"  In  New  Orleans,  that  city  of  sunshine  and 
magnolias,  there  lived  a  charming  French  girl  — 
beautiful  Mathllde  Gourlet.  She  was  the  only 
daughter  among  six  sons  and  from  her  childhood 
she  had  set  her  heart  upon  being  a  nun.  Her 
parents,  though  devout  Catholics,  did  not  approve 
of  her  wish  and  so  being  an  affectionate  and  duti- 
ful daughter  she  deferred  to  them.  When  she 
was  about  twenty-six,  however,  her  parents  died 
and  then  she  faced  her  brothers  with  her  desire. 

"  Seeing  that  her  mind  was  fully  made  up  to 
take  the  step  they  consented  —  provided  that  she 
would  wait  two  years.  Then  she  began  a  strange 
novitiate.  With  her  brothers  she  traveled  the 
world  over.  They  sought  the  secrets  of  the  Chi- 
nese shrines,  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  desert 

[90] 


Clemenna'0  Cn0i0 

and  whispered  to  the  Sphynx  and  the  Pyramids. 
They  lingered  In  Europe  and  by  every  joy  that 
mortal  mind  could  devise  the  brothers  tried  to 
win  her  back  to  the  world." 

Mrs.  Helton  grew  nervous  and  moved  uneasily 
In  her  chair.  Calling  a  servant,  she  ordered 
another  window  opened.  The  smooth  tones  of 
the  Spaniard  continued: 

*'  At  last,  however,  they  returned  home.  A 
little  later  her  brothers  invited  the  youth  and 
beauty  of  the  Crescent  City  to  the  most  brilliant 
ball  of  the  season.  Mathllde's  loveliness  was 
supreme  that  night.  Her  soft  ivory-tinted  skin 
had  no  suspicion  of  paleness.  Her  abundant  hair 
was  crowned  with  diamonds  and  her  bare  arms 
glittered  with  the  same  costly  gems.  In  her  white 
gown  she  looked  like  a  bride  save  for  the  absence 
of  a  veil.  Every  one  who  looked  at  her  was 
thrilled.  The  next  morning  she  entered  the  con- 
vent. It  was  the  wish  of  her  brothers  that  she 
should  leave  the  world  in  this  dramatic  setting." 

Silence  filled  the  room  when  Sanchez  had  fin- 
ished his  story.    At  last  some  one  said: 

"  It  is  dramatic,  but  is  it  true?  " 

''  Absolutely    true,     Senorita.       And     is     not 

[91] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

Mathllde  Gourlet  a  type  of  spiritual  purity  worthy 
of  the  middle  ages?  " 

"  For  the  love  of  heaven  don't  say  yes,"  broke 
in  Mrs.  Helton.  "  To  my  mind  she  was  a  fanatic. 
Her  story  gives  me  the  creeps." 

''  But  she  had  the  courage  of  her  conviction," 
persisted  Sanchez.  "  She  allowed  no  worldly  con- 
sideration to  tempt  her  from  it." 

"  She  was  narrow-minded,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Helton,  hotly.  "  Think  of  what  the  world  held 
for  her  and  how  heedlessly  she  abandoned  it. 
But  come,"  she  said,  rising,  "  let's  go  into  the 
patio.     The  air  is  stifling  here." 

The  men  remained  in  the  dining-room  over 
their  wine  and  cigars,  with  the  exception  of 
Sanchez,  who,  as  Clemencia  passed,  addressed  a 
few  words  to  her  and  then  accompanied  her  from 
the  room.  Barrington  noticed  that  she  drew  back 
slightly  and  seemed  to  shiver.  However,  he  was 
helpless  and  could  not  interfere. 

Clemencia  had  said  but  little  during  the  dinner. 
Of  this  Barrington  was  quite  sure,  for  he  had  not 
been  able  to  get  her  out  of  his  thoughts  at  all  and 
had  sent  many  a  furtive  glance  in  her  direction. 
When     he     saw     the     Spaniard     accompanying 

[92] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

Clemencia  from  the  table  he  had  a  moody  feeling 
of  discontent.  But  he  reasoned  with  himself: 
"  They  are  engaged.  I  will  not  allow  my  mind 
to  dwell  upon  her  so  continually.  She  is  nothing 
to  me."  Yet  in  some  way,  even  as  he  said  this, 
he  felt  strangely  out  of  tune  with  everything. 

He  became  quite  oblivious  to  his  surroundings, 
but  was  suddenly  aware  that  Mr.  Helton  was 
speaking: 

"  The  man  is  a  cad.  I  have  long  been  suspi- 
cious of  his  morals.  But  he  certainly  has  an 
unholy  influence  over  Clemencia  and  Senora  Cas- 
tellanos.  I  have  never  liked  him  and  Clemencia 
knows  it.  But  to  tell  that  story !  Well,  I  have  no 
words  to  express  my  contempt.  Yet  he  was  my 
guest.     What  could  I  say?  " 

Then  becoming  aware  that  Barrington  was 
gazing  at  him  curiously  he  said  apologetically: 

"  Excuse  me,  Barrington,  for  criticising  a  man 
under  my  own  roof,  but  our  Spanish  friend  always 
seems  to  get  upon  my  nerves." 

Everybody  laughed  and  the  subject  was  dis- 
missed. 


[93] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BARRINGTON  found  himself  the  next  day 
decided  on  a  course  that  he  had  never  fol- 
lowed before  In  his  life  —  the  prying  Into  affairs 
of  others  when  they  had  no  direct  concern  with 
his  own.  Though  he  despised  Sanchez  for  more 
reasons  than  one  he  was  convinced  that  his  preju- 
dice was  not  wholly  a  biased  one.  The  Spanish 
dandy  was  undoubtedly  a  scoundrel.  Regardless 
of  Sanchez's  relations  to  Miss  Castellanos,  which 
the  young  lieutenant  deplored  without  seeing  just 
how  he  could  disrupt  them,  he  had  determined 
to  try  and  learn  whether  the  young  secretary, 
Miss  Morro,  was  a  misled  victim  of  Sanchez's 
charm  —  or,  something  else. 

Matters  pertaining  to  the  reception  of  the  fleet 
made  It  necessary  for  Harrington  to  call  on  the 
Senora  Castellanos  that  morning,  so  he  decided 
to  begin  his  Investigations  at  once. 

Chance  favored  him,  for  when  he  was  ushered 
Into  the  library  of  the  senora's  home  he  found 

[94] 


Clemenria'0  Cti0i0 

Miss  Morro  there  alone.  She  arose  as  he  came 
in  and  apologized  for  her  employer's  absence, 
who  was  111  with  a  headache. 

Miss  Morro,  however,  gave  him  no  opportu- 
nity to  question  her.  Work  was  prepared  and 
she  at  once  delved  Into  it.  After  a  few  minutes 
had  passed  Harrington  Interrupted  boldly.  He 
knew  that  Sanchez  was  expected  and  would  join 
them  within  an  hour. 

''  Miss  Morro,"  he  said,  "  please  let  the  work 
wait  a  minute.  Since  yesterday  I  feel  that  I  must 
ask  you  a  question.    You  owe  me  an  explanation." 

"Of  what,  Senor  Barrlngton?"  the  girl 
replied,  with  a  look  of  surprise  in  her  eyes  and  a 
haughty  toss  of  her  head. 

"  Of  the  scene  I  witnessed  the  first  day  I  saw 
you." 

Her  dark  brows,  set  close  to  the  bridge  of  her 
nose,  met  suddenly  in  a  frown.  But  this  was  the 
only  sign  she  gave  of  being  taken  by  surprise. 
She  sat  back  negligently  in  her  chair,  swinging 
her  foot  and  staring  at  him,  but  her  voice  when 
she  spoke  had  no  inflection  of  displeasure. 

''  You  are  extremely  impertinent,  Senor,"  she 
said  slowly. 

[95] 


Clemenna'0  Cri0i0 

"  I  assure  you  that  I  do  not  mean  to  be." 

''  Then  truly  your  words  do  you  an  injustice, 
Sir!" 

Barrington  leaned  forward  still  watching  her 
narrowly. 

"  Miss  Morro,"  he  said,  ''  we  may  be  inter- 
rupted at  any  moment.  Do  not  bandy  words.  I 
am  quite  serious  in  my  demand  that  you  tell  me 
clearly  the  meaning  of  that  scene." 

At  this  her  temper  flashed  out  unmistakably. 

"By  what  right  do  you  question  me?"  she 
demanded  wrathfully. 

Her  flushed  face  and  brilliantly  angry  eyes  did 
not  disturb  Barrington's  imperturbability  in  the 
least.  He  regarded  her  silently  for  an  instant 
and  then  replied: 

*'  Yesterday  I  saw  Senor  Sanchez  for  the  second 
time." 

He  thought  he  noticed  her  wince  at  this,  but 
she  sat  up  straighter  in  her  chair  and  then  leaned 
toward  him  defiantly. 

"  Well?  "  she  volunteered.     "  What  of  that?  " 

"  Until  then  I  had  no  idea  that  he  was  the  man 
I  associated  with  you." 

"  And  now  that  you  associate  him  with  me," 

[96] 


Clemencia'0  Cris!i0 

she  said  scornfully,  "  I  reiterate,  what  gives  you 
the  right  to  question  me?  " 

"  Miss  Morro,"  he  said,  "  we  are  only  wasting 
time.  You  know  very  well  that  I  took  you  to  be 
his  wife.  What  else  could  I  infer  from  his  state- 
ment to  me  which  you  heard,  '  This  woman  is 
mine !  '  " 

She  laughed.    "  Why  don't  you  ask  him  then?  " 

"  I  want  the  truth  from  you." 

She  narrowed  her  lids  until  her  eyes  scarcely 
showed  at  all. 

"  Could  he  not  best  explain  his  own  words?  " 
she  said. 

"  He  would  lie  to  me  if  I  asked  him." 

*' And  will  I  not  lie  also?" 

'*  Senorita,  I  have  seen  you  here  every  day  for 
a  week.     I  am  sure  you  will  tell  me  the  truth." 

"  You  insult  me  and  pay  me  a  compliment  in 
the  same  breath,  Senor.  Oh,  the  strangeness  of 
man!" 

"  Miss  Morro,"  he  persisted  earnestly,  "  please 
believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  no  desire 
to  learn  your  secret,  if  there  is  one.  But  the 
happiness  of  a  lady  in  whom  I  take  a  great  inter- 
est is  involved  in  this  matter.     Only  yesterday  I 

[97] 


CIemencia'$  Crj0i$ 

learned  that  this  is  so.  Otherwise,  I  should  never 
have  interfered." 

"  And  you  really  think  I  will  tell  you  the 
truth?" 

"  Need  we  go  further  into  that?  I  have  studied 
you  more  closely  than  you  are  aware,  but  that  was 
unnecessary.  Instinct  told  me  at  once  that  you 
v/ere  truthful." 

The  girl  moved  restlessly.  "  You  said  a  woman 
was  involved,"  she  said  at  last.  "  May  I  be  per- 
mitted to  ask  what  woman?  " 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  do  not  know  that  Senor 
Sanchez  is  engaged?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  screamed. 

Harrington  was  utterly  unprepared  for  such  an 
outburst.  She  broke  out  furiously  in  a  storm  of 
denial.  Was  she  acting?  Was  it  possible  that 
she  had  never  heard  before  the  fact  which  he  sup- 
posed generally  known? 

"  It  is  false,  Senor  Harrington,  absolutely 
false,"  she  stormed,  her  face  convulsed  with 
anger. 

Appalled  at  the  violence  of  her  temper  he  could 
scarcely  find  words  to  reply.  But  he  realized  the 
importance  of  calming  her. 

[98] 


Clemencia'0  €ti$ifi 

"  Miss  Morro,"  he  said,  "  you  must  control 
yourself.  Remember,  we  may  be  interrupted  at 
any  minute." 

He  poured  her  out  a  glass  of  water  and  she 
drank  it  eagerly  while  she  struggled  to  regain  her 
self-control. 

"  Pull  yourself  together,"  he  said  encourag- 
ingly. "  There  must  be  some  way  out  of  this 
affair.    Let  me  help  you  if  I  can." 

That  Sanchez  was  deserving  of  any  punishment 
Harrington  did  not  for  a  moment  doubt.  But 
this  was  no  time  to  impress  that  opinion  upon 
Miss  Morro.  His  heart  went  out  in  sympathy  to 
the  girl.     She  was  suffering  deeply. 

"  Senor,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  fell  almost 
to  a  whisper  in  her  distress,  "  who  is  the  woman? 
I  must  know  her  name." 

"  Is  it  possible,  Miss  Morro,  that  you  do  not 
know  that  Sanchez  is  to  marry  his  cousin !  " 

Absolute  horror  was  depicted  on  her  face  as 
she  gasped: 

"  You  cannot  mean  Miss  Castellanos?  " 

The  girl's  face  was  ashen. 

"  Senor  Barrington,"  she  said  slowly,  "  she  can 
never  marry  him." 

[99] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

Barrlngton  hoped  she  spoke  the  truth.  Aloud 
he  asked: 

''Why?" 

"  There  are  some  vows  too  holy  to  be  broken." 

"  Then  you  are  his  wife?  " 

"  I  cannot  answer,"  cried  the  girl  in  distress, 
"  but  a  curse  will  surely  come  upon  him  if  he 
marries  her." 

"  Why  will  you  not  tell  me  what  I  want  to 
know?  "  he  demanded  sternly.  "  If  you  are  his 
wife,  say  so.  If  not,  what  claim  have  you  upon 
him?" 

"  I  will  not  answer  your  question.  The  affair 
is  mine,  and  his.  But  this  much  I  will  tell  you. 
He  shall  never  marry  another,  that  I  swear!  " 

Harrington  found  no  time  to  question  her  fur- 
ther. He  heard  the  outer  door  close.  Some  one 
was  coming.  Miss  Morro  went  back  trembling 
to  her  desk,  and  bent  over  her  papers,  saying  as 
she  did  so  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Meet  me  tonight,  Senor,  under  the  eucalyptus 
trees.     I  must  talk  with  you." 

A  moment  later  when  Sanchez  entered  her  face 
was  perfectly  composed,  and  she  was  apparently 
absorbed  in  her  duties. 

[  lOo] 


CHAPTER  XIX 


THAT  night,  under  the  eucalyptus  trees, 
Juanlta  Morro  sobbed  out  her  story  to  the 
naval  officer.  Standing  in  the  shadow  of  the 
great  trees  she  said  tragically: 

"  He  shall  never  leave  me.  No  other  woman 
shall  ever  have  him.  Senor  Barrington,  my  love 
for  Sanchez  has  made  me  wicked.  I  am  reckless 
without  it.  No  matter  what  I  feel,  no  matter 
how  I  strive  against  him,  once  in  his  arms  I  am 
helpless.  What  you  saw  that  first  day  out  on  the 
edge  of  the  town  is  proof  of  what  I  say.  He  has 
often  struck  me,  yet  I  love  him  more  than  my  life. 
Help  me.     I  am  in  despair." 

"  You  have  spoken  to  him,  then?  " 

[lOl] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0j0 

"  Alas,  yes.  And  he  has  dared  to  tell  me  he 
will  marry  his  cousin  in  spite  of  me.  But  I  know 
he  cannot  marry  her.  That  is  but  an  idle  threat 
to  frighten  me." 

"  Then  why  are  you  so  miserable?  " 

"  Because  he  loves  her  and  no  longer  loves  me. 
Even  without  the  marriage  I  am  lost." 

Barrington  was  helpless  in  the  presence  of  the 
woman's  grief.  There  was  no  remedy  he  could 
offer.  Then,  too,  though  he  was  genuinely  sorry 
for  the  girl,  her  misery  was  literally  nothing 
before  the  great  consequences  which  might  befall 
Clemencia.  Was  a  woman  of  her  exquisite  per- 
sonality to  be  sacrificed  to  such  as  Sanchez?  A 
thousand  times  no.  Yet  how  could  he  prevent 
such  disaster? 

''  Senor,  you  came  unbidden  to  my  help  once. 
Will  you  not  help  me  now?  " 

"  I  would  gladly  do  so  if  I  could,"  he  replied. 
•*  But  I  cannot  prevent  the  marriage.  Neither 
can  you  keep  a  man  who  has  ceased  to  love  you." 

"  It  is  more  than  the  mere  fact  that  I  love  him," 
she  said  in  a  low  voice.     "  He  must  make  me  an 
honest  woman.    He  has  sworn  to  marry  me.    Oh, 
Senor,  help  me  to  win  him  back!  " 
[  102] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

"  Would  to  God  that  I  could,  Miss  Morro ! 
But  if  you  have  no  claim  upon  him  I  see  no  way." 

"  They  will  never  marry.  I  have  told  you  that 
often.  But  if  he  continues  to  love  her  I  will  kill 
her." 

"Hush!"  he  said  sternly,  seizing  her  arm. 
"  Do  not  talk  so  wildly.  If  I  thought  that  you 
would  injure  a  hair  on  her  head  I  would  —  well, 
you  must  not  speak  of  her  like  that,  you  under- 
stand! " 

*'  Ah,  I  see.    You  love  her,  too  !  " 

"  Leave  Miss  Castellanos  out  of  the  question," 
he  replied  roughly,  "  if  you  wish  me  to  help  you." 

"  Senor,"  she  said  very  softly,  "  so  much  the 
better.  I  will  not  hate  her  if  you  love  her.  Only 
help  me  to  win  Sanchez  back.  But  if  I  cannot  do 
that  there  is  still  another  way.  I  have  not  been 
his  confidential  secretary  for  nothing,"  and  her 
face  darkened. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  That  I  will  not  tell  you.  I  suspected  long  ago 
that  he  might  wish  some  day  to  leave  me  and  I 
determined  to  have  a  weapon  to  fight  him  with  if 
he  did." 

*'  And  you  have  such  a  weapon?  " 
[  103] 


Clemenria'0  Crisis 

"  I  have,  and  if  I  can  hold  him  no  other  way 
I  can  do  so  by  means  of  this.'* 

Barrlngton  regarded  her  curiously.  What  a 
mixture  of  love  and  revenge  she  cherished  in  that 
pretty  head  of  hers!  Perhaps,  however,  it  was 
just  as  well,  he  thought,  that  she  could  feel  as  she 
did.     Aloud  he  said: 

"  Miss  Morro,  if  there  is  any  earthly  reason 
why  Senor  Sanchez  is  not  fit  to  wed  his  cousin 
the  sin  will  be  on  your  head  if  you  do  not  expose 
him." 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  shall  never  use  what  I  know. 
Did  I  not  tell  you  I  was  but  as  wax  in  his  hands? 
But  I  am  still  beautiful,  Senor  Harrington.  I  will 
not  allow  myself  to  believe  that  I  have  lost  him 
yet." 

She  was  a  girl  of  spirit.  How  in  the  world 
could  such  a  man  as  Sanchez  have  won  her  so 
completely?  She  was  loyalty  itself,  and  with  all 
his  perfidy  staring  her  in  the  face  she  still  wanted 
him. 

"  Senor  Harrington,"  she  continued,  "  in  two 
days  Senorita  Castellanos  accompanies  Mrs. 
Helton  to  the  Coronado  and  you  are  doubtless 
included  in  the  party.     Well,  I  will  try  my  beauty 

[  104] 


anemenna'$  Cri0i0 

on  Sanchez  In  her  absence.  He  loved  me  once. 
I  win  bide  my  time  In  silence  till  you  return.  If 
I  win,  you  win  never  know  the  weapon  I  hold 
against  him.  If  I  lose,  well,  perhaps  I  may  have 
more  to  tell  you  then." 


[105] 


CHAPTER  XX 

IT  was  the  night  before  Clemencia  was  to 
accompany  the  Heltons  to  Coronado  Beach. 
Her  packing  was  almost  finished  and  she  stood 
eyeing  the  last  bag  thoughtfully.  Had  she  or 
her  maid  forgotten  anything?  As  she  stood 
musing  the  deep-toned  voice  of  the  senora  called 
to  her: 

"  Clemencia,  I  desire  a  word  with  you." 

"  Certainly,  Grandmamma,"  the  girl  replied, 
somewhat  surprised,  for  the  hour  was  late  and 
she  had  supposed  her  grandmother  had  retired. 
*'  Shall  I  come  to  your  study?  " 

"  No.  It  is  not  necessary.  I  can  say  what  I 
have  to  say  here.  Yet " —  she  hesitated  a 
moment  — "  on  second  thought  perhaps  the  study 
would  be  best.  Your  maid  may  interrupt  us  any 
moment  here,  and,"  she  added  gravely,  "  I  want 
your  individual  attention." 

Clemencia  bowed  obediently  and  followed  her 
grandmother  from  the  room.  They  traversed  the 
long  corridor,  which  separated  their  apartments, 
[io6] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0j0 


without     a     word. 

Each  was  occupied 

with     her     own 

thoughts,   conscious    '•     „i.  ^ 

that  a  combat  of  will,  if  such  ensued,- 

•v. 

would  be  violent.     With  all  the  re-    ^ 
spect    which     Clemencia     bore     her         i^/ 
grandmother  there  had  been  times  of  late  when 
she  had  found  it  difficult  to  acquiesce  unquestion- 
ably in  many  of  her  wishes. 

A  low  fire  burned  on  the  hearth  in  the  senora's 
study  and  a  bright  reading  lamp  stood  beside  an 
open  book.     She  motioned  Clemencia  to  a  chair. 
[107] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

"  It  is  quite  late,  Grandmamma,"  the  girl  pro- 
tested, "  and  my  packing  is  not  quite  finished. 
Will  you  keep  me  long?  " 

"  Not  longer  than  is  necessary." 

Clemencia  shivered  a  little  as  she  sank  back 
into  the  soft  cushions.  She  recalled  that  other 
evening  many  years  ago  when  she  learned  that 
she  was  to  go  to  an  American  school.  Tonight 
the  determination  written  in  the  senora's  eyes  was 
hardly  less  pronounced  than  then. 

"  Clemencia,"  the  old  woman  began  again  in  a 
caustic  tone,  "  I  should  never  have  consented  to 
this  trip  to  the  Coronado  had  I  known  that  San- 
chez was  not  to  be  of  the  party." 

''  Surely  you  cannot  hold  me  responsible  for 
that !  "  exclaimed  the  girl. 

"  Not  responsible,  perhaps,  but  you  should  have 
declined  to  accept  an  invitation  which  did  not 
include  him." 

"  I  do  not  care  to  discuss  that,"  she  answered, 
rising  from  her  chair. 

''  I  think  you  were  partly  to  blame,  but  keep 
your  seat  and  your  temper,"  her  grandmother 
added  dryly,  "  for  I  have  by  no  means  finished 
what  I  wish  to  say." 

[io8] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

Clemencia  settled  back.  "  You  have  never  liked 
Agatha,"  she  said  hotly,  and  her  voice  held  a 
suspicion  of  tears. 

"  For  that  very  reason  you  should  be  more 
grateful  that  I  permit  you  to  visit  her  so  often." 

It  was  not  easy  to  answer  that  statement,  for 
in  a  measure  it  was  true.  Yet  Clemencia  recalled 
with  resentment  the  fact  that  each  one  of  her 
visits  to  her  friend  invariably  entailed  some  dis- 
agreeable scene  with  the  senora. 

The  latter's  keen  eyes  were  now  watching  her 
closely  and,  it  must  be  admitted,  disapprovingly. 
She  allowed  for  the  heat  of  youth  and  the  dis- 
parity of  years  between  them.  But  in  the  agita- 
tion of  the  younger  woman  the  senora  thought 
she  detected  more  than  the  mere  resentment  of 
youth.  Her  tone  had  a  touch  of  asperity  when 
she  spoke  again. 

"  My  objection  today  is  not  a  question  of  my 
dislike  for  Mrs.  Helton.  The  basis  of  it  is  of 
vasdy  more  importance  than  that  frivolous  little 
woman  could  inspire." 

Clemencia  lifted  her  eyes  to  her  grandmother's 
face  and  for  a  moment  the  two  women  held  each 
other's  glance  in  angry  silence.     The  senora  was 

[  109  ] 


Clemenria'0  Cri0i0 

calm  with  the  serenity  born  of  her  years.     The 
girl's  eyes  finally  wavered  under  her  look  and  fell. 

"  I  do  not  understand  what  you  mean,  Grand- 
mamma," she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  do  not,  Cle- 
mencia?  " 

Red  and  white  warred  in  the  girl's  face,  but 
she  spoke  firmly.  "  I  cannot  even  guess  unless  it 
is  as  you  say,  that  you  are  disturbed  that  Manuel 
is  not  going.     Is  that  it?  " 

*'No!"  The  senora's  voice  rang  hard  and 
stern.    "  No.    That  is  not  the  real  reason." 

"Then  what  is  it?" 

The  old  woman  leaned  forward  and  her  words 
came  cold  and  incisive. 

"  I  will  give  two  reasons.  First,  I  learned 
today  that  you  were  hesitating  upon  the  step  you 
have  sworn  to  take  before  the  altar." 

Clemencia  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  It  is  not  true !  " 
she  cried.    "  Sanchez  lied  when  he  told  you  that." 

''  On  the  contrary,  he  told  me  with  sorrow  in 
his  heart.     He  loves  you  tenderly." 

*'  He  is  too  selfish  to  love  anyone  tenderly.  He 
knows  that  I  despise  him.  Yet  he  torments  me 
daily." 

[no] 


Clemencia '0  €tM^ 

"  You  are  unjust  and  wrong.  His  Is  a  devoted 
affection." 

"  But  I,  at  least,  am  truthful.  Manuel  always 
puts  me  on  the  defensive  with  you.  It  Is  always 
Manuel  whom  you  believe.  Never  for  a  moment 
do  you  judge  me  except  through  his  eyes." 

"  I  repeat  that  his  Influence  has  nothing  what- 
ever to  do  with  my  views  this  time." 

The  senora's  quiet  manner  and  calm  assurance 
unconsciously  Impressed  Clemencia  and  her  own 
voice  was  less  aggressive. 

"  Why  do  you  doubt  me  then,  Grandmamma?  " 
"  I  have  a  great  reason  to  do  so." 
"  What  possible  reason  could  you  have?  " 
"  You  shall  hear!     Listen.     This  Is  my  second 
reason.     You  have  ridden  too  many  times  with 
the  American  naval  officer.    You  have  been  seen 
for  hours  with  this  stranger,  and  he  It  Is  Instead 
of  Manuel  who  is  to  accompany  you  to  Coronado 
Beach.     Is  that  not  enough?  "  and  her  eyes  glit- 
tered with  rage. 

Clemencia  stood  tall,  straight,  and  very  white. 
Her  head  was  uplifted  in  haughty  defiance.    For  a 
moment  she  could  not  reply  and  even  when  she 
found  her  voice  it  trembled. 
[m] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

"  Well?     Why  should  I  not  ride  with  him?  " 

"  Do  you  consider  it  right?  " 

*'  Was  it  not  plainly  stipulated  that  for  six 
months  I  should  be  free?  " 

"  You  should  not  play  with  fire." 

*'  There  is  no  fire." 

"  There  might  be  should  you  continue." 

"  And  if  I  do  not  choose  to  stop?  " 

''  It  is  then  as  I  feared!  "  the  older  woman 
cried  out  despairingly.  Suddenly  she  turned  white 
and  holding  her  hand  to  her  heart  as  if  in  great 
pain  she  sank  limply  into  her  chair.  In  a  moment 
Clemencia  was  at  her  side  crying  remorsefully. 

''  Oh,  forgive  me !  Forgive  me,  I  really  did 
not  mean  what  I  said!  " 

"  My  child,"  said  the  senora,  struggling  to 
regain  her  composure  and  stroking  the  girl's  hair 
tenderly,  "  beware  of  the  American.  When  I 
think  of  your  unhappy  mother  I  tremble  for  you. 
It  is  my  love  which  makes  me  want  to  keep  you 
from  them  all." 

Clemencia  smiled  up  warmly  Into  her  face. 

*'  Do  not  fear  for  me,  Grandmamma,"  she 
cried.  "  I  am  bound  forever  by  my  oath.  I 
shall  never  forget." 

[1.2] 


m^^ieJSL 


CHAPTER  XXI 


THE  strike  made  travel  by  railroad  uncertain, 
so  Mrs.  Helton  determined  to  make  the 
trip  to  Coronado  by  motor  Instead  of  In  her  hus- 
band's luxurious  private  car. 

In  the  lovely  spring  weather  there  was  little 
danger  from  storms,  and  then  there  was  the 
delight  of  running  over  the  mountains  and  across 
the  valleys  at  a  speed  that  suited  one's  mood. 
She  and  her  husband  with  Clemencia  and  Lieu- 
tenant Barrlngton  formed  the  party. 

They  left  Santa  Barbara  one  brilliant  morning 
shortly  after  sunrise  and  skirting  gardens,  vine- 
yards, and  ranches,  began  climbing  the  Casltas 
Pass.  They  were  reversing  the  trip  which  Har- 
rington had  made  on   foot  across  that  glorious 

[113] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i$ 

summit.  He  pointed  out  to  them  the  way  he  had 
taken  and  showed  them  the  spot  where  he  had 
stood  and  obtained  his  first  glimpse  of  Santa 
Barbara. 

Although  he  talked  much  of  his  never  to  be 
forgotten  tramp  over  the  Casitas,  he  said  not  a 
word  of  the  episode  under  the  great  pepper  tree 
in  the  lower  valley.  It  seemed  like  sacrilege  to 
mention  that  experience  to  others.  He  felt  he 
had  stumbled  accidentally  upon  a  tragedy,  and  the 
proximity  of  the  scene  recalled  vividly  that  pic- 
ture of  a  woman's  misery. 

Mrs.  Helton's  gay  voice  interrupted  his  revery 
and  he  looked  up  to  see  both  women  watching 
him.  But  in  the  eyes  of  Miss  Castellanos  there 
was  not  the  surprise  or  amusement  he  detected  in 
those  of  Mrs.  Helton.  She  seemed,  by  her  intense 
look,  to  ask  a  question,  and  while  her  face  be- 
trayed anxiety  he  was  aware  that  it  prompted  in 
him  a  curious  sensation  of  pleasure.  Mrs.  Hel- 
ton was  saying: 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  broke  off  abruptly  in 
the  description  of  your  walk  and  have  not  spoken 
a  word  for  five  minutes?  " 

Barrington  apologized  for  his  abstraction  and 

[114] 


Clemencia'$  Cri0i0 

though  temporarily  embarrassed  was  soon  at  his 
ease.  But  he  found  himself  wondering  why  Cle- 
mencla  had  given  him  that  quick,  frightened  look. 

*'  There,"  he  said,  to  relieve  the  strain,  "  I 
stood  watching  the  widespread  beauty  before  me. 
There  lay  Santa  Barbara  bathed  In  the  pure  riches 
of  the  sun." 

"  It  speaks  well  for  us  that  you  could  have  any 
admiration  left  for  our  little  town,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Helton.  "  I  should  think  that  your  eyes  would 
have  been  surfeited  with  the  beauties  of  the  pass." 

"  I  must  admit,"  he  answered,  "  that  white 
crowned  peaks  and  foaming  waterfalls  are  en- 
chanting. But  look!  Those  green  trees  which 
gleam  like  emeralds  In  the  sunshine  —  tell  me, 
are  they  not  wonderful,  too?  " 

*'  I  think  I  love  the  deep  canyons  of  the  Sierras 
better  than  any  other  view,"  Clemencia  volun- 
teered. 

"  But  the  lower  passes  have  also  a  great  charm. 
Where  will  you  find  a  lovelier  view  than  this?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Helton.  "  See,  ridge  and  valley 
below  us,  stretching  out  In  marvelous  beauty  of 
roughened  ground  or  cultivated  land  to  the  blue 
waters  of  the  Pacific!  " 

[115] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

''  I  grant  all  that,"  the  girl  answered,  *'  but  the 
Sierras  hold  a  solemn,  ineffable  beauty.  The  deep 
silences,  the  strange  tones  found  in  the  heart  of 
the  mountains  cause  one  to  forget  the  world  and 
fill  one  with  an  exhilarating  gladness." 

What  a  fine  wilderness  was  revealed  as  they 
crossed  the  range !  The  Casitas  is  not  a  high 
pass,  but  even  were  one  possessed  of  the  coldest 
nature  he  could  scarcely  fail  to  fall  under  its  spell. 
It  gives  bewildering  impressions  of  long  curves, 
high  peaks  and  blooming  underbrush  and  it  stirs 
the  soul  to  a  sense  of  its  beauty. 

The  little  party  did  not  lack  enthusiasm.  Cours- 
ing along  in  the  fleet-flying  automobile,  the  bright 
spangled  light  falling  about  them,  they  seemed  to 
be  floating  through  an  enchanted  world.  Leaving 
the  pass  they  descended  rapidly,  soon  reaching 
Ventura  and  the  open  sea. 

Here  the  mission  and  the  whole  country  around 
it  v/ere  full  of  reminiscences  of  Ramona  and  her 
sheep-shearing  ranch. 

Again  there  was  a  long  stretch  of  gardens, 
streams,  and  glimpses  of  misty  mountains;  then 
once  more  a  picturesque  mission  and  San  Fer- 
nando. 

[n6] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

Once  as  they  neared  a  desert  tract  Mr.  Helton 
called  out  from  his  seat  beside  the  chauffeur: 

"  Look,  Barrington,  look  at  those  two  palms!  " 

Glancing  in  the  direction  indicated  the  young 
man  saw  two  date  palms,  erect  as  sentinels,  guard- 
ing the  entrance  to  that  vast  stretch  of  golden 
sands.  Their  size  was  unusual  even  in  this  coun- 
try of  large  palms,  and  their  trunks,  looking  like 
huge  pineapples,  held  aloft  the  colossal  leaves 
curving  and  swaying  like  ostrich  feathers. 

"Are  they  not  wonderful?"  said  Clemencia. 
"  I  always  think  of  the  fairies  when  I  see  them. 
Their  bending  green  branches  hide  all  sorts  of 
beautiful  things  I  am  sure." 

"  It  seems  marvelous  to  me,"  responded  Bar- 
rington, '*  that  here  on  the  edge  of  the  desert, 
where  nothing  endures,  such  a  thing  of  beauty  is 
born.  Your  thought  of  the  fairies  must  be  cor- 
rect, for  these  palms  seem  enchanted  princesses 
in  their  glittering  emerald-green  dresses." 

"  Men  talk  of  the  solitude  and  the  desolation 
of  the  desert,"  said  Clemencia,  "  but  there  is  a 
strange  fascination  about  its  loneliness  and  it  is 
always  a  splendid  sea  of  color.  The  greens,  golds, 
and  blues  of  the  mountains,  the  pale  topaz  sands, 

[117] 


Clemenciag  Cri0i0 

the  white  clouds  overhead  all  are  past  description. 
Then  at  noon  comes  that  Midas  touch  of  golden 
haze  over  it  all." 

"  Clemencia  sees  wonders  in  the  desert  always, 
Lieutenant  Barrington,"  interpolated  Mrs.  Hel- 
ton. "  To  me  it  means  only  a  wavering  heat  of 
mirage  and  sand,  not  the  least  bit  wonderful." 

"  You  are  always  so  exact,  Agatha,"  smiled 
her  companion.  ''  Do  you  never  see  in  that  sea 
of  sand  the  golden  fire  blazing?  And  have  you 
never  noticed  at  sunset  the  strange,  opalescent 
lights  which  flutter  over  mountain  and  plain?  " 

"  Indeed  I  have  tried  earnestly  to  see  these 
marvels,  Clemencia,  dear,  but  the  fairies  are  not 
generous  to  me.  The  best  I  can  do  is  to  acknowl- 
edge that  the  desert  possesses  no  supernatural 
charms  and  that  I  am  always  glad  to  leave  it." 


[ii8] 


fm^-r 


*i^ 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THUS  by  easy  stages,  stopping  at  the  mis- 
sions as  they  passed,  the  little  party  accom- 
plished in  a  few  days  what  to  Barrington  seemed 
the  most  enjoyable  trip  he  had  ever  known. 

Sometimes  he  and  Mrs.  Helton  sat  for  hours 
and  talked.  At  other  times  Clemencia  shared 
his  seat,  and  while  both  were  delightful  com- 
panions the  charm  of  the  younger  woman  was 
different  from  anything  he  had  ever  known. 

Mrs.  Helton's  conversation  was  the  smart  and 
scintillating  kind  that  prompts  ready  response, 
while  Clemencia's  precluded  the  frivolous. 

In  this  world  of  many  echoes  he  found  hers 
was  a  voice.  Her  opinions  were  worth  while  and 
her  arguments  most  convincing,  and  once,  after 

[119] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

some  expression  that  had  particularly  Impressed 
him,  he  said: 

"  Miss  Castellanos,  in  this  day  of  free  play  — 
of  individualism  —  I  believe  your  wise  counsel 
and  persuasions  would  be  genuinely  beneficial  to 
some  of  your  sisters.  I  am  serious  when  I  say 
that  you  should  talk  to  them." 

In  an  instant  Clemencia  was  silent.  The  per- 
sonal trend  of  his  remarks  obviously  troubled  her. 
But  her  face  betrayed  perturbation  rather  than 
annoyance.  She  caught  him  eyeing  her  keenly, 
and  nervously  aroused  herself  to  reply. 

"  There  are  many  reasons,  Lieutenant  Barring- 
ton,"  she  said  quietly,  "  why  I  could  never  have 
a  voice  in  public  matters." 

"  You  are  too  modest,"  he  Insisted  quickly. 
"  Every  woman  has  the  right  to  express  her  con- 
victions if  she  has  the  ability  to  support  them." 

Clemencla's  long  lashes  drooped.  She  made 
no  further  reply  and  somehow  Barrington,  too, 
felt  no  desire  to  push  the  subject.  There  were 
times  like  these  when  her  very  presence  seemed 
enough.  And  her  moods  of  silence  were  con- 
tagious. 

Her  beauty,  too,  appalled  him.     The  color  in 

[  120] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

her  cheeks,  In  her  hair,  her  wonderful  dark  eyes 
flecked  with  sparks  of  fire  were  fascinating,  and 
the  heavy  lashes  which  lay  against  her  cheeks 
made  their  ivory  tint  more  lovely. 

Sometimes  she  sat  quietly,  looking  out  across 
hill  or  mesa,  with  only  a  faint  flush  warming  her 
face  and  revealing  her  delight  at  the  view.  She 
looked  so  pure,  so  aloof,  as  if  she  might  have  been 
a  priestess  of  some  old  temple.  He  felt  a  wild 
desire,  there  on  the  public  road,  to  enter  the  lists 
and  fight  to  keep  her  forever  with  him. 

As  they  talked  they  sped  along  through  the 
beautiful  rolling  country.  The  mountains  in  blue 
shadows,  with  misty,  white  clouds  hovering  about 
them  reared  their  lofty  heads  to  the  left.  To  the 
right  were  spread  gardens,  orchards,  and  vine- 
yards in  every  stage  of  cultivation,  and  before 
them  lay  a  long  stretch  of  the  road  like  a  slender 
brown  ribbon. 

The  eyes  of  San  Diego  were  turned  seaward. 
The  long-expected  fleet,  through  roughened  seas, 
had  rounded  the  Horn  and  in  majestic  array  was 
entering  the  beautiful  harbor  of  Coronado  Beach. 

What  feeling  is  there  like  that  inspired  by  these 

[121] 


Clemenna'0  Crisis 

dun-colored  symbols  of  a  nation's  power?  It  is 
not  patriotism;  not  the  hectic  elation  we  feel  for 
countless  uniforms  and  the  martial  tread  of  count- 
less feet;  not  the  joy  that  springs  from  tingling 
brass.  The  army  looks  and  sounds  power  and  the 
navy  breathes  it.  Battleships  are  silent  monitors 
of  sovereignty ! 

If  you  have  ever  seen  these  ships  stretched  out 
in  single  file,  like  some  impregnable  Gibraltars 
of  the  sea,  you  have  felt  that  dull  sense  of  help- 
lessness and  oppression.  They  are  the  quin- 
tessence of  power. 

Barrlngton  had  reported  to  the  commander  of 
his  squadron  and  remained  aboard  his  ship  until 
the  fleet  was  sighted.  Then  his  duties,  as  master 
of  ceremonies  ashore,  took  him  back  to  the  Hel- 
tons and  Clemencia.  They  had  not  seen  him  for 
two  days.  On  the  morning  of  the  third  he  joined 
them  and  they  motored  early  to  Point  Loma. 

Through  glasses  they  watched  the  skillful 
maneuvering  of  the  ships  on  their  entrance  into 
the  harbor.  Nearer  and  nearer  they  came,  and 
then,  amid  the  booming  of  cannon,  sounded  an 
answering  echo  from  the  assembled  thousands. 

There  followed  the  generous  hospitality  of 
[  122  ] 


Clemencja'0  Cri0i0 

California  —  receptions,  banquets  and  the  preten- 
tious gathering  in  the  ballroom  of  the  Coronado 
Hotel. 

A  brass  railing  set  off  the  big  floor  for  the 
dancers,  and  beyond  this  on  soft,  luxurious  car- 
pets were  the  easy  chairs  and  card  tables  for 
chaperons  and  less  energetic  if  not  less  loyal 
participants. 

Flags  and  banners  fluttered  everywhere,  ad- 
mirals and  precocious  lieutenants  danced  or  idled 
side  by  side. 

Harrington,  as  a  matter  of  course,  spent  the 
greater  part  of  his  time  with  the  Heltons'  party. 
He  had  already  danced  twice  with  Clemencia,  and 
he  had  to  be  a  prodigious  tactician  to  accomplish 
that,  for  no  feminine  contributor  to  the  evening's 
joy  was  in  greater  demand.  Her  singular  type 
and  unusual  beauty  drew  their  toll. 

Admiral  Thomas,  who  had  succeeded  to  the 
command  of  the  fleet  when  illness  held  "  Fighting 
Bob  "  Evans  at  Magdalena,  claimed  his  share  of 
Miss  Castellanos'  attention,  and  there  were  many 
"  seconds  in  command  "  who  did  likewise. 

But  Barrington,  in  his  full  regalia,  was  not  to  be 
ignored.  If  there  was  any  match  for  Clemencia 
[  123] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

in  that  spacious  room  it  was  he,  and  that  was 
a  fact  that  did  not  pass  without  comment.  He 
was  dancing  with  her  for  the  third  time  when 
suddenly,  offering  fatigue  as  an  excuse,  she  sug- 
gested that  they  stop  and  step  out  to  the  balcony 
for  a  breath  of  air. 


[124] 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

ON  the  balcony  Barrington  felt 
the  glamour  of  the  night  upon 
him.  The  music  floated  upward  in  a 
rapture  of  sound;  through  the  open 
window  he  saw  the  brilliant  uniforms  of  the 
officers,  with  their  wealth  of  gold  lace,  and  the 
jeweled  gowns  of  the  women  .as  they  swayed  and 
moved  in  the  dance.  But  Clemencia  seemed  obliv- 
ious to  the  sight.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  long 
path  of  moonlight  in  the  foam-tipped  waves  of  the 
Pacific.     Was  it  a  silver  pathway  to  the  stars? 

It  seemed  to  the  young  naval  lieutenant  that 
they  had  suddenly  stepped  out  of  a  passion-swept 

[I2S] 


Clemenria'0  Cn0i0 

world  into  a  misty  life  of  dreams.  Clemencia 
wore  her  hair  piled  high  upon  her  shapely  head. 
Her  ivory-tinted  face  glowed  with  a  light  which 
rivaled  the  pale  glory  of  the  moon.  From  her 
filmy  dress  her  matchless  shoulders  emerged  as 
though  rising  from  a  fleecy  cloud.  Her  long, 
white  throat,  her  beautiful  face  framed  in  its 
nimbus  of  sunny  hair  gave  her  a  singularly 
unearthly  beauty.  The  costume  she  wore  accentu- 
ated her  slenderness  and  through  her  gloves  he 
noticed  her  tapering  hands. 

As  they  stood  listening  to  the  strains  of  the 
waltz,  however,  her  face  was  immobile.  He  won- 
dered, too,  why  she  veiled  her  eyes  so  steadily 
from  him.  But  he  saw  that  she  was  reluctant  to 
talk  and  so  he  determined  that  he  would  not  be 
the  first  to  break  the  silence.  At  last  with  almost 
a  sigh  she  smiled  up  at  him. 

''  Thank  you,"  she  said  softly.  "  Another 
would  not  have  understood,  but  you  have  not 
spoken." 

His  heart  bounded  in  gladness  at  the  thought 
that  she  appreciated  his  conception  of  her  mood. 
Her  voice  was  full  of  subtle  chords  of  music  and 
she  was  addressing  him  again. 

[126] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

"  Sometimes  I  wonder,"  she  said,  ''  whether 
life  here  is  not  rushing  to  a  climax.  Can  this 
turmoil  which  we  call  society,  this  mad  excitement, 
go  on  forever?  '* 

*'  Do  you  mean  to  suggest  enchanting  possibili- 
ties of  greater  pleasures  or  merely  disaster,  Miss 
Castellanos?  "  he  asked  lightly,  trying  to  fathom 
her. 

"  Neither.  But  sometimes  strange  thoughts 
crowd  upon  me  in  the  midst  of  gayety,  and  tonight 
I  felt  in  there  "  —  pointing  toward  the  ballroom 
—  "I  felt  as  if  I  should  smother  unless  I  could 
escape." 

She  spoke  with  unusual  feeling,  and  for  a 
moment  he  was  at  a  loss  how  to  reply.  She  did 
not  appear  to  notice  this,  however,  and  in  a 
moment  she  continued  in  a  troubled  way: 

"  Lieutenant  Barrington,  do  you  believe  that 
a  promise  sacredly  given  could  ever  be  honorably 
broken?" 

For  a  moment  his  diplomacy  deserted  him. 
Was  it  possible  that  she  meant  to  speak  of  her 
engagement?  But,  no.  Before  he  found  his  voice 
she  continued  hurriedly.  "  I  mean  if  one  believed 
firmly  in  something  all  one's  life  and  then  found 

[  127] 


Clemenna'0  Cn0i0 

it  only  a  delusion,  would  that  be  sufficient  reason 
to  desert  a  cause,  to  refuse  to  take  a  step  which 
others  insisted  was  right?" 

Harrington's  thoughts  were  rushing  quickly, 
but  as  quietly  as  he  could  he  commanded  his  voice 
to  slow  utterance. 

"  If  one  was  sure  that  the  cause  was  worthy  I 
should  say  no.  But  if  the  delusion,  as  you  call  it, 
were  personal,  could  one  honestly  be  a  judge  of 
the  cause?  " 

Her  eyes  opened  widely  for  an  instant  in  sur- 
prise as  she  replied: 

"  Oh,  yes !  Of  that  there  could  be  no  doubt. 
There  is  merit  in  the  cause,  unquestionably  so.  But 
if  a  personal  note  entered  —  say,  for  instance,  the 
happiness  of  one  person  alone  became  involved  — 
ought  one  to  temporize  with  duty  because  of  that? 
That  is  the  question  I  meant  to  ask." 

He  was  quite  sure  now  that  she  referred  to  her 
engagement,  but  he  dared  not  tell  her  what  he 
understood.  She  was  unhappy,  he  had  long  known 
that.  But  since  she  had  so  veiled  her  question, 
had  been  so  guarded  in  her  speech,  ought  he 
brusquely  to  show  her  that  he  knew  the  truth? 
No.     If  she  chose  generalities  he  would  stick  to 

[128] 


Clemenna'0  Cti0i0 

them  also.  Any  personal  note  in  their  conversa- 
tion on  that  subject  must  come  from  her.  But  his 
temples  throbbed  and  his  blood  was  rushing 
madly.  She  did  not  love  Sanchez.  Why  did  this 
thought  give  him  endless  joy?  He  felt  that  he 
would  be  willing  to  lift  mountains  to  gain  a  closer 
insight  into  this  woman's  heart. 

Why  tonight  of  all  nights,  at  the  most  brilliant 
social  affair  of  the  season,  had  she  chosen  to  tell 
him  even  this  much?  Why  had  she  let  him  catch 
a  glimpse  of  her  unrest?  Was  it  that  the  spirit 
of  this  wonderful  California  night  had  caught  her 
as  it  had  caught  him?  Did  she  feel  the  sea  air 
like  iced  wine  tingling  through  her  veins?  Was 
nature  whispering  to  her  as  it  was  to  him  through 
every  blade  of  grass  frosted  with  silver?  Could 
she  hear  ever  and  anon  faint  voices  telling  her 
that  the  world  was  splendid  and  that  youth  was 
glorious  and  that  they  two  alone  were  listening  to 
these  secrets?  He  leaned  toward  her,  his  face 
glowing,  though  in  the  clear  moonlight  she  could 
see  that  his  eyes  were  grave. 

"  Miss  Castellanos,"  he  said  seriously,  "  I  can- 
not judge  absolutely  upon  a  subject  of  which  you 
choose  to  tell  me  so  little.    Naturally,  an  honor- 

[  129] 


Clemencia'0  Crisis 

able  man  or  woman  will  not  repudiate  a  promise. 
But  I  do  believe  that  certain  promises  are  rashly 
made  and  should  be  retracted.  May  I  tell  you 
a  little  story  to  illustrate  what  I  mean?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  It  is  hard  to  begin,"  he  said  brusquely; 
"  harder  than  I  thought,  because  until  tonight  I 
have  never  told  it  to  anyone.  But  somehow  I 
feel  that  I  must  tell  it  to  you.  I  once  stumbled 
accidentally  upon  a  great  tragedy.  I  saw  a 
woman,  young  and  unmistakably  beautiful,  bowed 
down  with  such  woe  as  I  hope  never  again  to  see. 
She  was  grief-stricken  to  the  depth  of  her  soul, 
and  I  believe  all  through  a  mistaken  view  of  life. 
She  would  have  been  very  happy.  She  chose  to 
be  miserable." 

Clemencia  put  out  her  gloved  hand  suddenly 
and  caught  at  the  railing.  He  was  surprised  to 
see  how  it  trembled, 

"Shall  I  go  on?"  he  asked  softly,  observing 
her  agitation  at  his  words,  "  or  would  you  rather 
that  I  did  not?  " 

*'  Oh,"  she  said  faintly,  ''  do  not  stop.  I  am 
much  interested.    Who  was  the  woman?  " 

"  That  I  do  not  know.     She  was  a  Catholic 

[  130] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

nun,  or  rather  she  was  a  novice.  She  was  still 
free  to  choose  the  world,  for  she  wore  the  white 
veil  of  her  convent.  For  some  reason  she  was 
quitting  her  cloister.  That  much  I  easily  guessed." 

He  went  on  to  relate  his  experience  on  the  pass 
near  Santa  Barbara,  but  finally  said:  "In  spite 
of  the  fact  that  the  sudden  sorrow  which  I  acci- 
dentally witnessed  was  too  tragically  pathetic  to 
be  aught  but  real,  instinct  told  me  that  it  was 
unnecessary  grief.  That  woman,  with  the  wealth 
of  golden  hair,  was  utterly  crushed  by  some 
fancied  woe.  She  had  no  right  to  suffer  as  she 
did.    Of  that  I  am  convinced." 

"But  you  did  not  see  her  face!"  she  said 
excitedly.  "  You  say  she  did  not  speak  to  you! 
How  could  you  know?  " 

"  True.  She  spoke  not.  But  I  touched  her 
hands  and  they  spoke  plainly.  The  thrill  of 
her  soft,  pliant  fingers  gave  me  the  mystic  sense 
of  her  life.  I  knew  as  surely  as  I  know  that  I 
stand  here  that  my  instinct  is  true." 

Clemencia  dropped  her  head  suddenly  upon  her 
hands,  but  at  his  exclamation  of  alarm  that  she 
might  be  ill  she  lifted  it  and  said  faintly:  "  No, 
but  your  story  has  affected  me,   I   admit.     You 

[131] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

speak  so  strangely,  so  authoritatively.  Why,  what 
could  a  woman's  hands  say?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered  slowly.  "  Call 
it  the  sixth  sense,  explain  it  as  you  please.  But 
they  did  speak  to  me,  eloquently,  appealingly. 
They  asked  me  for  help  so  plainly  that  I  could 
scarcely  keep  from  crying  out  the  answer,  and  I 
have  wished  a  thousand  times  since  that  I  had 
done  so." 

"  And  her  hands  told  you  all  of  that?  How 
strange !  "  She  laughed  softly,  but  her  laugh  was 
not  genuine.  He  detected  the  false  note  in  it,  and 
when  he  spoke  again  it  was  in  a  sterner  tone. 

*'  Yes,  Senorita.  They  told  me  all  that  and 
more.  It  was  not  alone  that  her  hands  were 
beautiful.  There  was  character  in  them.  They 
showed  that  her  life  could  be  great  and  full  of 
power.  A  woman  with  such  hands  had  a  right 
to  a  life  of  her  own  choosing,  a  life  full  of  beauti- 
ful things  designed  and  carried  out  by  a  superior 
mind."  Then  after  a  pause  he  continued:  "  For- 
give me  if  I  have  moved  you  by  my  sad  story, 
but  the  nun's  pitiful  tragedy  touched  me  suddenly, 
vitally. 

"  You    are   like    that   nun.    Miss    Castellanos. 

[  132  ] 


Clemenda'0  Cri0i0 

Your  own  life  you  can  make  or  mar.  A  single 
misstep  may  be  fatal.  That  novice  was  probably 
no  older  than  you  in  years,  but,  alas,  her  life  lay 
all  behind  her.  Can  you,  at  your  age,  face  life 
and  live  through  the  endless  years,  reaching  out 
even  into  eternity,  through  any  mistaken  sense  of 
a  promise  rashly  made?  Forgive  me  if  I  speak 
earnestly,  but  I  have  watched  you  closely.  You 
are  not  happy.  You  make  me  think  of  that  poor 
novice,  weeping  in  the  dust.  My  resolutions  to 
ask  no  questions  are  failing  me  now.  I  would 
prize  your  confidence  as  I  would  my  soul." 

He  had  spoken  breathlessly,  hurriedly,  for  his 
emotions  almost  overpowered  him.  Now  he 
awaited  her  answer. 

She  was  as  pale  as  death,  but  when  his  appeal 
ceased  she  rallied  and  regained  her  composure. 
There  was  hauteur  in  her  voice  when  she  spoke 
again.  It  was  cool  and  had  lost  the  soft  timbre 
of  her  confidential  mood.  She  was  again  the 
woman  of  the  world,  indifferent,  smiling  and 
courteously  distant.  The  crucial  moment  had 
passed,  and  it  struck  the  man  with  bitter  force 
that  she  had  resented  his  personal  note,  showing 
him  plainly  that  she  resented  his  question.     No 

[  133  ] 


Clemencia'iS  Cn0i0 

amount  of  masculine  endurance  could  bid  him  rise 
above  the  situation,  or  pretend  indifference  to  her 
change  of  manner.  He  bowed  silently  and  offered 
her  his  arm. 


[134] 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

ONE  sunlit  morning  a  few  days  later  San 
Diego  was  shocked  by  news  of  a  tragedy  in 
the  strike-ridden  district  near  Santa  Barbara.  An 
explosion  had  occurred  in  the  power-house  of  the 
line  which  was  an  adjunct  to  the  railroad  managed 
by  Mr.  Helton.  The  usual  warning  had  failed 
to  come  and  three  men  had  been  killed. 

Helton  knew  that  the  subsequent  investigation 
would  require  his  personal  attention,  and  as  Har- 
rington's immediate  activities  in  behalf  of  the 
fleet  had  been  about  completed  the  party  of  four 
set  back  toward  Santa  Barbara  that  afternoon  at 
racing  speed. 

In  this  particular  outrage  Mr.  Helton  was 
unusually  concerned.  One  of  the  young  men  who 
had  lost  his  life  had  been  a  protege  of  his,  a  young 
man  whom  he  was  educating  and  fostering  for  a 
bigger  work.  His  distress  was  communicated  to 
Barrington,    and   the   young   officer   expressed   a 

[135] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

keen  desire  to  assist  In  ferreting  out  the  persons 
who  were  really  responsible  for  the  disaster. 

By  the  time  they  had  finished  their  journey  a 
dozen  or  more  arrests  had  been  made  and  feeling 
ran  high.  But  the  suspects  were  as  stoical  as  ever. 
Barrington  had  been  with  Helton  all  the  morning 
on  the  first  day  of  the  official  Investigation.  At 
luncheon  he  was  approached  by  a  messenger  whom 
Helton  recognized  as  an  employe  at  Senor  Cas- 
tellanos'  Santa  Barbara  office. 

The  note  proved  to  be  from  Miss  Morro,  the 
young  secretary,  and  urged  Barrington  without 
fall  to  meet  her  at  4  o'clock  in  the  canyon  back  of 
the  San  Isldoro  Inn.  The  lieutenant  did  not  relish 
the  appointment.  He  construed  It  as  something 
pertaining  to  her  personal  relations  with  Sanchez 
and  determined  to  make  known  his  reluctance  In 
this  matter  In  no  uncertain  terms. 

When  he  reached  the  appointed  place  the  girl 
came  toward  him  quickly.  He  was  shocked  at  her 
appearance.  She  had  lost  the  air  of  bravado 
which  he  had  always  associated  with  her,  and  her 
face,  pale  and  haggard,  revealed  unmistakable 
suffering. 

*'  Thank  you  for  coming,  Senor,"  she  said. 

[136] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

"  Senorlta,  I  came  because  you  asked  me,  but, 
Indeed,  this  affair  between  you  and  Senor  Sanchez 
is  not  for  me  to  consider.  I  feel  that  this  must 
be  our  last  interview  upon  the  subject." 

*'  You  said  you  would  help  me,  Senor  Barring- 
ton.     Will  you  refuse  it  now?  " 

"  It  is  not  that  I  am  not  willing,  but  I  see  no 
reason  for  my  interference." 

"  Oh,  Senor,"  she  exclaimed  passionately, 
"  there  is  no  justice  in  Sanchez.  He  will  not  listen 
to  me.  Indeed,  I  am  quite  forgotten,"  and  her 
voice  became  choked  with  tears  and  almost 
inaudible. 

Barrington  knew  that  Sanchez  was  a  villain, 
but  would  it  console  the  girl  to  tell  her  so? 

"  In  one  breath  I  hate  him,  Senor,  and  feel  that 
I  will  confront  him  with  the  proofs  of  his  crimi- 
nality in  my  possession.  But  in  the  next  I  love 
him  and  cannot  bring  myself  to  betray  him." 

"  Senorita,  you  have  spoken  before  of  this  guilt. 
Of  what  is  he  guilty?  " 

"  I  had  intended  to  tell  you  on  your  return  from 
Coronado  Beach.  But  I  cannot  make  up  my  mind 
to  betray  him  now." 

''  Why,  then,  did  you  send  for  me?  " 

[  137] 


Clemencia'0  Crisis 

'*  Even  that  I  cannot  explain  without  a  betrayal 
of  what  under  the  circumstances  I  now  think  best 
to  conceal." 

"  You  have  no  thought  of  the  right  and  wrong 
of  the  subject?  "  he  asked  gravely. 

*'  I  think  only  of  the  way  it  will  affect  him," 
she  cried.  '*  I  would  destroy  all  proof  of  his  guilt 
if  he  would  take  me  before  the  priest  tomorrow." 

"  Miss  Morro,  you  know  that  that  is  not  an 
argument." 

"  I  am  no  moralist." 

"  But  you  must  have  a  conscience." 

''  Not  where  he  is  concerned." 

The  girl  concealed  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
burst  into  tears.  "  Oh,  Senor,"  she  sobbed,  "  I 
am  utterly  miserable!  " 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Harrington.  ''  Perhaps 
after  all  you  are  exaggerating  the  importance  of 
the  affair.  Since  you  will  not  let  me  help,  though, 
speak  to  Sanchez.  Tell  him  plainly  to  make  a 
clean  breast  of  things.  That  always  goes  a  great 
way  toward  helping  even  the  guilty  man." 

She  looked  up  suddenly  and  her  eyes  glittered 
with  tears. 

"  You  hate  him,"   she  cried,   "  and  though  I 

[138] 


Clemencia's  Cn0i0 

came  to  you  longing  for  your  help  I  do  not  like 
your  advice." 

"  True,  I  do  not  like  him,"  replied  Harrington 
gravely,  ''  but  I  would  try  to  be  fair  even  with 
my  enemy.     My  advice  is  sincere." 

'*  Confession  might  hang  him,"  she  said,  "  and 
I  will  not  betray  him.  No,  Senor,  you  could  not 
be  really  fair  toward  a  man  whom  you  hate.  After 
all  I  shall  trust  only  myself.  I  know  that  Sanchez 
is  untrue  to  me,"  she  added,  "  but  I  cannot  tear 
love  for  him  from  my  heart.  It  will  be  wiser  for 
me  to  keep  my  own  secrets." 

And  so  they  parted,  with  Barrington  none  the 
wiser  as  to  her  real  motive  for  summoning  him, 
but  he  was  vitally  more  interested. 


[  139] 


CHAPTER  XXV 

IT  is  fascinating  to  watch  day  by  day  the  devel- 
opment of  a  human  soul.  One  recognizes 
every  shade  of  feeling  from  the  slightest  sense  of 
depression  to  the  greatest  height  of  enthusiasm, 
and  though  Barrington  was  in  a  stage  of  dispas- 
sionate sympathy  —  so  he  himself  declared  —  his 
emotional  control  was  severely  taxed.  He  was 
alive  to  the  privilege  of  his  acquaintance  with  Miss 
Castellanos.  Their  natures  were  congenial,  and 
though  their  point  of  view  was  often  widely  dis- 
similar the  fact  only  accentuated  their  interest  in 
each  other's  presence. 

What  a  lasting  bond  of  love  or  friendship  is 
this  faculty  for  interesting  argument.  One  cannot 
live  on  the  heights  forever  and  be  nourished. 
Amiable  disagreement  makes  famiHar  association 
truly  delightful.  Dull  and  witless  conversation 
will  pall  upon  the  most  devoted  couple. 

A  man  of  any  sentiment  whatever  cannot  be 
thrown    into    companionship    with    a    charming 

[  140] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

woman  without  feeling  some  interest  in  her.  He 
need  not,  necessarily,  be  in  love,  but  to  sit  with 
her  hour  after  hour  in  the  sun-sweetened  air  of 
California  and  not  succumb  to  her  charm  would 
prove  him  bloodless.  Though  Barrington  believed 
his  affections  were  well  under  control  he  did  not 
deny  that  Clemencia  was  marvelously  alluring. 
On  the  night  of  the  ball  he  had  been  quite  sure 
that  he  was  about  to  look  into  her  heart,  quite 
certain  that  her  bare  soul  was  about  to  be  revealed 
to  him.    But  she  had  suddenly  called  it  back. 

As  if  by  mutual  consent  the  subject  of  her 
engagement  was  ignored.  He  could  fight  for  his 
own  in  the  open,  could  face  her  lover  with  a  clear 
conscience  if  she  were  willing.  But  she  had  shown 
him  plainly  that  she  did  not  seek  his  interference. 
Unhappy  as  he  believed  her  to  be  over  her 
promise  to  this  other  man  he  could  not  flatter 
himself  that  he  was  the  one  to  remedy  her  dis- 
content. And  no  matter  from  what  angle  the 
young  officer  studied  Clemencia  she  seemed  always 
shrouded  in  her  air  of  mystery.  It  was  as  if  a 
halo  enveloped  her  and  she  was  unwilling  for 
anyone  to  step  within  its  sacred  boundary. 

Barrington    for   a   man   of   his   precision   and 

[141] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

hardy  instincts  was  strangely  softened  by  her 
words.  One  morning  they  were  discussing  life  in 
its  various  phases.  "  Fate,"  said  the  officer,  "  is 
after  all  but  a  rose  in  the  garden  of  life  and  its 
petals  fall  one  by  one  for  man.  For  some  the 
leaves  flutter  lightly  to  the  ground  without  con- 
fusion and  there  is  no  discord  in  their  lives.  But 
for  others  they  scatter  in  storm  clouds,  carrying 
dark  shadows  as  they  go.  But,"  he  added  lightly, 
"  after  all  that  I  do  not  believe  in  those  time-worn 
superstitions  of  bad  luck  for  the  owners  of  opals 
and  pearls,  do  you?" 

"Who  really  believes  anything?"  she  smiled 
back.  "  Life  is  only  a  chapter  of  accidents  and 
environments.  Blood  and  instinct  are  inherited. 
The  oversensitive,  highstrung  temperament, 
worked  up  to  nervous  tension,  sees  ghosts,  while 
matter-of-fact,  prosaic  souls  laugh  unbelief." 

"  Not  always,"  he  retorted.  "  They  say  that 
instinct  is  only  the  refuge  of  the  ignorant.  But 
I  know  a  man  of  superior  intellect,  a  dabbler  in 
science,  and  authority  on  mathematical  problems, 
who  once  had  an  unheard-of  experience.  It  was 
remarkable  in  itself,  but  peculiarly  so  because  it 
happened  to  this  particular  man." 

[142] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

As  he  spoke  he  bent  over  and  plucked  a  spray 
of  Cecil  Bruno  roses.  Their  eyes  met  as  he  raised 
his  head  and  for  a  moment  neither  spoke.  He 
leaned  forward  and  dropped  the  flowers  softly  in 
her  lap.  She  raised  the  tiny  pink  blossoms  to  her 
face,  laying  them  across  her  cheek.  Then  she 
pinned  them  at  her  breast. 

"  Your  friend's  experience,"  she  said  quietly. 
"What  was  it?" 


[143] 


>«"^,- 


"^»^ 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


"  ^T^HE  man,"  Harrington  began,  "  as  I  told 
A  you,  was  a  calm  and  placid  individual  who 
was  generally  absorbed  in  his  dry  problems.  He 
was  nearing  forty,  had  a  charming  wife  and  two 
daughters  who  were  just  entering  their  teens.  At 
the  time  of  this  singular  happening  they  were  all 
with  him  in  Marquette,  Michigan,  spending  two 
weeks  at  a  summer  hotel. 

**  One  morning  at  five  o'clock  he  was  suddenly 
awakened.  Determining  that  it  was  too  early  to 
arise,  he  said:  '  I  can  still  sleep  a  couple  of 
hours.*  Almost  instantly,  however,  he  was  con- 
scious of  a  most  curious  sensation.     He  was  not 

[  144] 


Clemencia'n  Crt^ff 

asleep,  but  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  his  soul  was 
slowly  leaving  his  body,  and  gradually  he  saw 
himself  distinctly,  lying  In  his  bed,  peaceful  and 
calm,  while  his  conscious  self,  his  spirit,  was  slowly 
rising. 

"  He  felt  himself  borne  higher  and  higher  until 
he  was  caught  in  a  swift  current  of  air.  It  rushed 
him  along  with  tremendous  speed.  He  could  feel 
the  tingling  of  the  cold  blast,  but  he  had  no  sensa- 
tion that  was  disagreeable.  His  only  impression 
was  that  of  bewilderment.  Where  was  he  going? 
What  was  to  be  his  destination?  He  was  con- 
scious that  he  had  no  control  over  himself.  He 
believed  himself  hovering  somewhere  between 
heaven  and  earth,  but  he  felt  powerless  to  resist. 

"  Suddenly  he  saw  in  the  distance  an  object 
advancing  rapidly  toward  him.  As  it  came  closer 
he  perceived  It  was  a  white-robed  figure.  Nearer 
and  nearer  it  came  until  he  could  discern  that  it 
was  a  woman  In  a  long  white  gown  with  clouds  of 
loose  hair  floating  about  her.  She  was  very  beau- 
tiful and  had  a  wonderful  serenity  of  countenance. 
*  I  shall  never  forget  that  face  if  I  live  a  thousand 
years,'  he  told  me.  '  In  Its  pale,  solemn  beauty 
I  would  recognize  it  in  heaven  or  hell !  ' 

[  145  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i$ 

*'  Looking  squarely  Into  his  eyes  as  she  passed 
him  this  spirit  woman  said:  'Twenty-six  of  us 
were  drowned  an  hour  ago  off  the  coast  of  New- 
foundland. I  was  the  only  woman.'  So  speaking 
she  passed  swiftly  on. 

''  In  a  moment  he  was  wide  awake.  It  was  then 
just  five  minutes  after  five.  It  had  all  happened 
in  five  minutes. 

"  At  breakfast  he  related  the  experience  to  his 
wife  and  daughters.  Of  course,  they  called  it  a 
dream.  It  was  so  vivid,  however,  that  though  in 
a  measure  he  shared  their  belief,  he  thought  and 
spoke  of  it  constantly. 

"  You  can  imagine  the  astonishment  and  dismay 
of  this  man  and  his  family  when  a  day  later  flar- 
ing headlines  in  the  morning  papers  proclaimed 
a  tragedy  exactly  of  the  kind  I  have  just  described 
to  you.  The  details  of  the  disaster  were  precisely 
the  same  as  they  had  been  pictured  to  this  man. 
Twenty-six  souls  went  down  on  a  small  ship  —  all 
she  held  —  and  the  only  woman  aboard  was  the 
captain's  young  and  beautiful  wife. 

"  But  the  most  curious  part  of  the  story  to  me 
is  —  why  should  my  friend  have  had  the  fact 
communicated  to  him  an  hour  after  the  disaster? 

[146] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

He  did  not  even  know  of  the  woman's  existence. 
If  the  communication  was  psychic  —  and  it  could 
have  been  nothing  else  —  why  should  a  person 
have  been  selected  who  had  never  heard  of  these 
poor  people,  who  had  no  knowledge  of  any  kind 
about  them? 

"  The  type  my  friend  represented  made  it  a 
most  remarkable  case.  The  only  possible  explana- 
tion was  that  his  soul  did  actually  leave  his  body 
and  was  wandering  in  space  when  it  came  face  to 
face  with  this  girl  victim  as  she  was  making  her 
long  journey;  and  just  because  they  met,  just 
because  of  contact  and  for  no  other  reason,  she 
told  her  story.  No  previous,  no  future  connection 
was  necessary.'' 

Clemencia's  face  showed  varied  emotions.  She 
had  sat  immovable  while  her  companion  related 
his  strange  story.  She  saw  that  he  awaited  some 
response. 

"  It  seems  unbelievable,"  she  murmured,  but 
her  words  belied  her  real  feeling. 

"  I  grant  you  that,"  the  young  officer  responded, 
'*  but  it  is  true,  and  to  all  of  us  revelations  have 
come  that  seem  scarcely  less  marvelous." 

*'  But  surely,  Lieutenant  Barrlngton,  amid  these 

[147] 


Clemencia'^  Criniu 

flowers  and  sunshine  you  would  not  dare  declare 
your  belief  in  such  tales!  " 

He  regarded  her  earnestly.  A  cool  salt  wind 
straight  from  the  sea  blew  toward  them  as  he 
leaned  nearer. 

"  I  would  and  do,"  he  said  firmly. 

She  paled  and  shifted  her  eyes  from  his  in 
nervous  manner. 

'*  Come,"  he  added  in  a  more  spirited  tone, 
''  we  are  distressing  ourselves  with  a  mysterious 
and  gloomy  subject.  It  is  scarcely  in  accord  with 
the  brightness  of  our  environment.  Let  me  tell 
you  something  more  cheerful.  I  have  arranged 
with  Mrs.  Helton  for  a  long,  glorious  day  in  the 
mountains  —  the  kind  of  a  day  you  so  love.  But 
I  must  strike  a  bargain  with  you  before  I  make 
you  a  party  to  this  jaunt  —  " 

"  Really,  Lieutenant  Harrington,"  Clemencia 
interrupted,  "  I  did  not  know  I  sought  the  honor." 

"  You  haven't,  but  you  will,"  he  laughed.  Then, 
seriously,  he  continued:  "  I  want  to  ask  you  a 
question.  It  may  be  pertinent  or  impertinent,  as 
you  interpret  it.  Tell  me,  won't  you.  Miss  Castel- 
lanos,  why  you  so  persistently  evade  discussion 
of  such  a  subject  as  we  have  just  brought  up?  '* 
[148] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

A  shaft  of  sunshine  filtering  through  the  helio- 
trope trees  flickered  across  her  face.  He  saw  her 
pale  and  again  he  witnessed  that  refuge  In  reserve 
by  which  she  always  thwarted  his  attempted 
Intimacies. 

The  same  helpless  feeling  came  over  him  as 
when,  that  night  on  the  balcony,  he  had  offered 
his  arm  while  his  heart  beat  angry  defiance. 

"  Honestly,  Lieutenant  Harrington,  I  cannot 
even  conjecture  what  you  mean,"  she  taunted. 

The  falsity  of  tone  was  obvious,  while  the 
strange  solemnity  of  her  manner  Impressed  him, 
too.     But  he  persisted: 

"  I  have  noticed,  too,"  he  stumbled  on,  '*  that 
you  often  enter  Into  frivolous  environment  appar- 
ently against  your  will.  Am  I  right  in  that  obser- 
vation? " 

Her  answer  took  him  off  his  guard. 

"  You  are,"  she  said  quietly.  "  You  are  a  keen 
observer  and  in  this  case,  at  least,  you  are  correct." 

"  You  mean  that  you  do  not  care  for  society  as 
we  have  come  to  know  that  word?  " 

"  Exactly  that." 

"  Why,  then,  do  you  mingle  in  it?  " 

Her  answer  was  bafflLng.    ''  I  thought  everyone 

[  149  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cri^isi 

knew  that,"  she  said.  "  Chiefly  it  is  because  I 
will  shortly  see  no  more  of  it  and  of  my  friends." 

"  But  surely  marriage  will  not  debar  you  from 
society!  " 

"  Marriage  I  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Lieutenant 
Harrington,  I  have  no  thought  of  marriage!" 
Then  after  a  momentary  pause  she  added:  "I 
think  a  curse  would  come  upon  me  if  I  had." 

Miss  Morro's  words !  Why  had  this  girl  used 
them,  too?     He  leaned  toward  her  eagerly. 

"  You  are  not  betrothed  to  Senor  Sanchez 
then?" 

The  question  brought  Clemencia  to  her  feet. 

"  A  thousand  times  no !  What  on  earth 
prompted  such  a  question?  " 

His  heart  leaped  with  gladness.  "  But,"  he 
persisted,  "  surely,  Mrs.  Helton  told  me  that  you 
were." 

"  Impossible.  You  misunderstood  her.  My 
betrothal  is  not  to  him  —  not  to  any  man."  Her 
voice  was  low  and  tremulous. 

"Not  to  any  man?"  he  echoed,  completely 
mystified.     "Why  —  " 

*'  It  is  to  the  church!  " 

The    bright    sunlight    seemed    to    fade    away. 

[150] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

Though  Barrlngton's  brain  was  clear  he  breathed 
as  if  he  were  In  a  London  fog.  His  eyes  remained 
on  her  face  so  long  that  she  flushed  and  stam- 
mered out  some  trivial  question.  He  was  uncon- 
scious of  It,  however.     He  did  not  even  hear  her. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  a  thousand  pin  points 
were  sticking  In  his  heart  and  that  he  was  being 
consumed  by  a  great  white  heat.  Later  he  became 
aware  that  she  was  expecting  him  to  speak.  A 
surge  of  compassion  for  her  and  for  himself  swept 
over  him,  but  suddenly  it  vanished.  In  an  Instant 
he  understood,  and  he  cried  hoarsely: 

"  You  are  the  nun  I  saw  weeping  and  of  whom 
I  told  you  that  night  on  the  balcony!  " 

She  bowed  her  head,  nodding  a  slight  affirma- 
tive. 

And  so  It  was  really  she  —  the  girl  of  his 
dreams  and  of  his  desire  were  one  and  the  same ! 

Again  he  saw  the  green  branches  of  the  pepper 
tree  and  between  the  leaves  the  berries  shining 
like  drops  of  blood.  He  saw  the  white  clouds 
above  lying  against  the  blue  of  the  heavens.  He 
saw  again  that  wondrous  veil  of  golden  hair,  cov- 
ering the  quivering  body  of  a  forlorn,  unhappy 
woman. 

[151] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

"  You  recognized  me  then?  "  he  asked  and  his 
voice  grew  stern. 

"  Yes,  I  knew  you  from  the  first." 

"  And  you  deliberately  concealed  your  identity, 
even  when  I  told  you  the  story  of  the  nun,  and 
allowed  me  to  think  that  you  were  engaged  to  your 
cousin!  " 

"Why!  "  she  cried,  with  rising  resentment  at 
his  manner  —  "  why,  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should 
have  told  you." 

"  Good  God,"  he  said  impetuously,  "  you  see 
no  reason.  Is  it  possible  a  woman  can  be  so  blind 
as  to  what  a  man  might  feel?  " 

He  was  lashed  into  anger  and  his  pride  was 
outraged  that  she  should  sit  so  calmly  before  him 
after  such  a  confession.  But  as  he  saw  her  look 
of  half  fear,  half  anguish  as  she  listened  his  face 
grew  less  stern.  Yielding  to  the  impulse  of  the 
moment  he  seized  the  soft  hands  that  lay  so  limply 
in  her  lap  and  drew  her  to  him  with  a  strong 
man's  force.  But  the  look  that  met  his  unnerved 
him  and  he  quickly  released  her. 


[152] 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THERE  was  no  doubt  that  Barrington  had 
found  Clemencia's  admission  appalling. 
Life  suddenly  presented  a  new  perspective.  His 
whole  spirit  revolted  at  her  quiet  acquiescence  to 
a  role  that  was  alien  to  her,  but  he  aroused  him- 
self to  as  cheerful  a  viewpoint  as  he  could  sum- 
mon. 

"  You're  not  bound  yet,"  he  reasoned,  at 
another  meeting,  "  and  your  hair  is  glorious." 

"  My  vow  is  irrevocable,"  she  said  with  dignity, 
ignoring  his  bold  personality,  and  although  he 
murmured  an  apology  his  heart  stood  still  at  her 
words. 

"Irrevocable?    Why?" 

"  Oh,  not  my  vow  to  the  church.  A  woman 
is  free  to  return  to  the  world  all  the  years  of  her 
novitiate.  The  black  veil  alone  cloisters  her.  But 
the  pledge  I  made  years  ago  to  my  grandmother 
is  just  as  sacred,  just  as  binding." 

"  No,"    he    argued,    "  there   you    are   wrong. 

[153] 


Clemenda'0  Cn0i0 

Again  I  am  taking  up  arms  In  the  controversy. 
One  vow  Is  far  less  binding  than  the  other,  and  I 
will  prove  it." 

Her  tale  had  been  peculiarly  solemn  In  Its  per- 
fect simplicity.  Her  grandmother,  lavishing  love 
In  her  cold,  unbending  way,  had  painted  to  her  the 
perplexities  and  snares  of  an  unguarded  girl  In 
the  world. 

She  had  pictured  to  her  what  she  might  accom- 
plish by  her  dedication  to  religion  and  to  the 
romantic  mind  of  the  young  girl  It  carried  the 
thrill  of  mysticism.  The  glamour  of  this  prema- 
ture surrender  of  will  had  caused  her  to  purge 
herself  of  all  worldly  desires  before  she  was  six- 
teen. Her  grandmother,  taking  advantage  of  this 
youthful  enthusiasm,  demanded  and  received  her 
oath  to  accept  the  spiritual. 

Manuel  Sanchez  had  fostered  the  thought  in 
her,  too,  for  the  day  of  her  Immurement  would 
mark  the  senora's  gift  of  a  fortune  to  him.  She 
planned  to  give  him  a  slice  of  her  wealth  before 
insuring  the  rest  to  the  church,  and  this  would  be 
done  only  when  Clemencia  was  safe  in  the  con- 
vent. 

This  niggardly  desire  for  wealth  on  Manuel's 

[154] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0{0 

part  had  kept  him  closely  In  touch  with  the  girl, 
fostering  her  devotion  to  the  convent.  But  it 
had  led  to  his  own  undoing,  for  he  ended  by  lov- 
ing her  in  his  evil  way,  and  of  late  had  tried  to 
persuade  her  to  give  it  all  up  and  marry  him. 

Mrs.  Helton  had  seen  Harrington's  misinter- 
pretation of  her  words  regarding  Clemencia's 
engagement,  but  she  felt  that  unless  the  girl  saw 
fit  to  tell  him  of  her  oath  she  would  not.  There- 
fore Harrington  had  easily  made  the  mistake  of 
supposing  Clemencia  engaged  to  her  cousin. 

Padre  Galvez  made  scornful  analysis  of  Cle- 
mencia's  childish  oath,  but  both  women  were 
unconvinced  by  his  arguments,  regarding  the 
promise  as  binding.  Educated  along  these  lines, 
is  it  to  be  wondered  that  Clemencia  acquired  a 
certain  exaltation  of  purpose  and  believed  she 
could  benefit  humanity  by  her  step? 

Barrington  was  a  Catholic  with  a  pride  in  his 
Catholic  ancestry  that  only  a  man  of  Irish  blood 
could  appreciate.  But  Clemencia's  devotion  and 
determination  in  this  case  somehow  seemed 
bigotry.  He  was  haunted  by  the  memory  of  unrest 
he  had  so  often  seen  in  her  eyes  and  in  some  inex- 
plicable manner  he  felt  sure  she  would  escape  if 

[155] 


Clemencfa's;  Cn0i0 

she  could  do  so  honorably.  Dimly  through  the 
storm  and  stress  Into  which  her  confession  had 
thrown  him  his  soul  was  fighting  to  reach  her 
level.  There  face  to  face  on  the  heights  once 
more  he  would  tell  her  the  truth.  The  life  she 
had  planned  was  beautiful  for  many,  but  for  her 
It  was  all  unsulted. 


I 


■^  w 


[156] 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

OPPOSITION  to  Clemencia's  desire  to 
become  a  nun,  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
came  from  Padre  Galvez.  This  holy  man  at  the 
head  of  a  great  religious  institution  had  been 
drawn  to  its  life  from  firm  convictions,  and  when 
he  arose  at  dawn  and  followed  his  brethren  into 
the  chapel  where  he  celebrated  mass  it  was  to 
begin  a  busy  day.  His  brain  was  like  a  clear  flame. 
It  was  filled  with  lofty  thoughts  inspired  by  his 
great  mission. 

To  him  his  church  was  a  badge,  an  ornament. 
The  cross  meant  consolation  for  humanity.  He 
was  a  monk,  but  there  was  no  limitation  of  power 
in  his  strength.  He  was  a  leader  of  men.  His 
word  roused  them  to  action  and  to  better  deeds. 
Padre  Galvez  saw  that  it  was  unwise  for  Clemen- 
cia  to  enter  the  convent  at  an  early  age,  and  he 
had  said  often  to  the  senora  that  he  was  not  sure 
that  she  should  enter  It  at  all. 

"  I  know  the  feminine  heart  in  matters  of  doing 

[157] 


Clemencia'0  Cr{0i0 

penance,"  he  said.  *'  I  know  also  how  easily 
religious  enthusiasm  Is  fired.  But  Clemencia  has 
had  her  standard  thrust  upon  her." 

"  Even  so,"  the  senora  retorted.  "  Do  you  not 
realize  that  she  will  be  protected  against  the 
mighty  temptations  of  the  world?  " 

"  No,  I  believe  in  the  justice  of  God.  He  does 
not  weigh  our  bad  deeds  against  the  splendid  per- 
fection of  the  martyrs'  lives.  He  allows  for  our 
moral  height  and  will  judge  us  accordingly.  In 
the  world,  loving  and  honoring  her  church,  Cle- 
mencia could  be  as  shining  a  light  as  the  saintly 
nun." 

"  But,"  argued  the  senora,  "  Clemencia  could 
do  more  good  for  the  eternal  church  by  going  into 
the  convent." 
'     Padre  Galvez  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  so.  I  am  an  old  man.  I  live  beneath  the 
moldy  walls  my  honored  brethren  built.  Yet  great 
as  has  been  the  work  of  these  splendid  priests  for 
God,  in  my  soul  I  feel  that  the  woman  who  raises 
her  children  to  glorify  and  honor  Him  is  great, 
too." 

Thus  they  argued  the  matter,  and  with  usually 
the   same   conclusion.      "  If   Clemencia   Is   really 

[158] 


Clemenda'0  Crisis 

destined  to  bear  the  cross  I  will  gladly  see  her 
there,"  he  said.  "  But  she  herself  must  choose 
the  way." 

The  clang  of  the  mission  bells  was  music  to 
Padre  Galvez'  ears.  His  work  was  dearer  to 
him  than  life  itself,  but  though  the  stains  of  time 
were  deep  upon  his  face  he  had  not  forgotten  his 
youth.  Looking  back  across  the  years  the  mem- 
ories of  those  days  were  very  beautiful.  True  it 
was  so  long  now  it  seemed  to  him  the  white  sea 
mist  had  crept  in  between  to  soften  the  view.  But 
all  his  being  responded  to  those  memories.  The 
fire  of  youth  still  echoed  in  his  heart.  And  he  was 
determined  Clemencia  should  have  her  chance. 
This  was  why  he  would  not  allow  her  to  begin  her 
novitiate  till  she  was  twenty-one. 


[159] 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

FOR  days  following  that  scene  in  the  garden 
Barrington  discussed  her  religious  zeal  with 
Clemencia,  but  mostly  from  purely  an  abstract 
standpoint  and  often  with  a  smile  upon  his  lips. 
But  of  late  he  had  once  or  twice  forgotten  his 
role.  He  could  not  always  keep  absolute  com- 
mand over  himself,  especially  when  he  could  see 
that  distressed  look  in  her  eyes. 

One  night  as  he  sat  thinking  he  realized  what 
the  last  few  days  had  meant  to  him.  In  his 
splendor  of  love  now  revealed  he  was  conscious 
only  of  a  great  gladness.  So  long  as  he  believed 
that  Clemencia  belonged  to  another  he  would  not 
admit  it  even  to  himself.  But  now  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  her  worldly  freedom  his  eyes  were  opened. 

Young  as  he  was,  he  had,  like  most  men,  experi- 
enced love's  illusions.  But,  like  breath  on  a  mir- 
ror, they  had  disappeared  quickly.  But  this  was 
different.  Qemencia  was  the  one  woman  for 
whom  he  had  waited,  and  now  when  he  had  found 
[i6o] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

her  the  church  —  his  church  —  stood  between  him 
and  happiness. 

He  knew,  of  course,  that  In  rare  cases  the  pope 
had  annulled  the  chains  which  bound  a  nun  even 
after  the  veil  had  been  taken.  But  he  knew,  also, 
that  If  Clemencia  once  stood  before  the  altar  and 
consecrated  herself  to  God  nothing  on  earth  could 
tempt  her  to  ask  his  holiness'  aid.  And  yet  with 
all  this  there  was  a  song  In  his  heart  which  seemed 
to  uplift  him  and  to  say: 

"  Set  her  free !  She  does  not  understand  the 
closing  of  her  beautiful  young  life,  and  although 
In  the  convent  she  might  never  awaken,  never 
come  to  know  all  that  she  had  missed  In  the  per- 
fection of  attained  womanhood,  why  should  not 
you  be  the  Siegfried  to  awaken  this  Brunhllde  with 
a  kiss?" 

If  sleep  came  to  him  at  all  that  night  It  brought 
no  refreshment.  His  pulses  throbbed  to  the  beat 
of  his  heart  during  all  the  long  hours  of  the  night. 
Not  until  the  gray  streaks  of  dawn  lighted  his 
windows  did  he  drop  Into  uneasy  slumber. 

In  the  morning  he  recalled  that  It  was  the  day 
selected  for  the  long  ride  to  Shepherd's  Inn,  from 
which,  after  supper,  they  were  to  make  the  return 
[i6i] 


Clemencia'0  Crisis! 

by  moonlight.  How  joyously  he  had  looked  for- 
ward to  this  mountain  picnic!  But  now  it  seemed 
that  love  and  sorrow  had  come  to  him  simultane- 
ously and  that  fate  had  chosen  the  most  cruel 
moment  to  reveal  to  him  the  secrets  of  his  heart. 
Outside  in  the  warm  winter  sunshine  the  birds 
were  making  delicious  music.  Wherever  he  looked 
beauty  lay  revealed.  That  wonderful  charm 
which  nature  holds  in  the  early  morning  hours 
for  those  who  seek  her  took  possession  of  him 
and  gave  him  new  strength.  On  the  wings  of  all 
this  color  and  beauty  a  message  promising  invis- 
ible power  was  borne  to  him,  and  it  seemed  that 
he  knew  already  that  the  cry  of  his  soul  would 
be  answered. 


tl62] 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  crisp  morning  air  imbued  their  mounts 
with  unusual  zest,  and  somehow  the 
Heltons'  steeds  seemed  a  little  more  energetic 
than  the  others.  They  led  the  way  a  hundred 
paces  or  so  ahead  of  Clemencia  and  Barrington. 
The  jolly  party  skirted  the  ranches  with  charming 
houses  nestling  among  the  orange,  lemon,  and 
apricot  orchards.  Pear  trees  white  with  foamy 
blossoms,  peach  trees  with  their  tints  of  sunset 
pink  fluttered  on  all  sides.  Occasionally  they 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  mountains  tinged  with 
amethyst  and  the  exquisite  blue  of  the  sky.  A 
joyous  little  band  they  were.  Now  and  then  a 
melody  arose  from  some  particularly  happy  one, 
whose  refrain  would  be  echoed  in  chorus  by  the 
rest. 

The  dinner  at  Shepherd's  Inn  was  fraught  with 
the  many  pleasantries  of  the  moment.  Its  con- 
clusion and  the  waning  of  the  day  brought  a 
gentler  mood.   Barrington  suggested  to  Clemencia 

[163] 


Mountains  tinged  with   amethyst  and  the  exquisite 
blue  of  the  sky 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

that  they  climb  one  of  the  cliffs  for  a  better  view 
of  the  setting  sun.  She  assented,  and  presently 
they  had  gained  the  steep  and  stood  upon  a  little 
platform  of  rock  high  on  the  cliff. 

The  girl's  cheeks  were  like  roses  from  the 
climb.  She  was  hatless  and  her  beautiful  hair, 
looking  as  though  it  had  been  borrowed  from  the 
sun,  crowned  her  low  forehead  in  little  rippling 
waves  of  light.  She  seemed  to  him  the  embodi- 
ment of  perfect  womanhood. 

The  man  gained  courage  to  speak.  He  argued 
for  the  greatness  of  the  church.  He  spoke  of  the 
flawless  life  of  the  nun  who  is  called  to  lead  the 
life  and  of  the  mistaken  zeal  of  those  who  ever 
enter  it  without  the  divine  spark.  He  tried  to 
show  that  among  those  the  church  claimed  as 
saints  many  had  sought  the  world,  and  that  those 
spotless  souls  had  not  lowered  their  standards 
by  entering  its  whirlpool.  On  the  contrary,  they 
had  held  the  highest  crowns  as  saints  and  martyrs. 

*'  I  believe,"  he  said,  "  that  with  the  abilities 
you  possess  and  the  wealth  at  your  command, 
your  work  would  be  larger  and  of  infinitely  more 
value  in  the  world  you  propose  to  desert  than 
behind  the  doors  of  the  convent  you  seek." 

[i6s] 


Clemencia'0  €11010 

"  I  do  not  agree  with  you,"  she  replied  slowly, 
*'  for  I  believe  that  in  the  world  obstacles  would 
arise  to  divert  my  purposes.  My  very  Intentions 
would  be  changed,  wiped  out  as  it  were,  and  my 
purpose  defeated." 

He  smiled  grimly.  '*  I  have  a  strong  suspicion 
that  your  argument  would  not  stand  in  court. 
You  would  have  a  large  sphere  in  the  world. 
The  rich  soil  in  a  woman's  nature  cannot  be  cov- 
ered up  with  the  rules  and  regulations  of  convent 
life  and  yet  breed  fertility  for  the  needs  of  the 
world  of  which  she  had  absolutely  no  knowledge." 

"  Perhaps  it  Is  not  necessary  that  I  should  know. 
I  shall  have  good  advisers,  and  after  all  a  woman, 
even  In  the  world,  must  trust  such." 

''  Not  such  a  woman  as  you,"  he  answered 
boldly.  ''  At  the  risk  of  paying  you  a  compli- 
ment, I  must  say  that.  But  we  are  speaking  too 
seriously  to  mince  our  words.  Your  future  use- 
fulness and  activity  depend  upon  yourself  and 
no  adviser.  Moreover,  in  the  convent  your  power 
of  idealism  would  be  killed.  You  could  not  rise 
to  the  heights  an  intimacy  with  current  events 
would  arouse.  Your  best  efforts  and  energies 
would  always  be  curbed." 

[166] 


Clemenda'0  Crisis 

The  girl  was  silent.  Just  the  semblance  of  a 
frown  passed  over  her  usually  unclouded  brow. 
When  at  last  she  broke  the  silence  she  spoke  In 
low,  decisive  tones. 

"  It  Is  not  pleasant  to  have  your  chosen  Idol 
abused  as  you  are  doing  mine.  But  In  your  mad 
haste  to  decry  the  quiet  of  my  cloister  and  uphold 
the  devotion  to  the  world  you  live  In  you  give  no 
hint  of  the  minor  caprices  which  absorb  the  hours 
there.  You  draw  your  picture  of  freedom  and 
power,  yet  all  that  I  have  heard  and  seen  there 
makes  me  fear  for  Its  slavish  laws.  It  is  only  a 
change  of  masters,"  she  ended  gravely,  "  and  I 
prefer  mine." 

"  You  talk  unknowingly  because  you  have  been 
brought  up  In  universal  Ignorance.  There  are 
subtle  and  Imperative  wants  to  be  met  In  the  world 
and  true  womanhood  Is  crying  out  Its  needs.  But, 
alas!  few  answer  the  call,  and  If  women  such  as 
you  fail  their  sisters  In  their  hour  of  need  what  Is 
to  become  of  your  sex?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  violently  agitated  and  losing 
for  the  moment  her  self-control.  "  The  career 
you  paint  could  never  be  for  me.  I  am  too  igno- 
rant —  too  inexperienced.     But  even  were  I  con- 

[167] 


Clemencia'0  Crf0i0 

vinced  that  the  world  needed  me,  all  these  reasons 
are  nothing  before  the  overpowering  one  which 
has  dominated  me  always,  my  bond,  my  compact, 
call  It  what  you  will.     It  cannot  be  broken." 


[i68] 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

FOR  a  few  minutes  neither  spoke,  and  it  was 
Harrington's  voice  that  broke  the  stillness. 

**  Is  your  grandmother,  then,  so  unreasonable? 
In  this  day  and  generation  no  one  has  the  right 
to  bind  another,  and  you,  you  surely  are  too 
sensible  to  keep  a  foolish,  childish  oath.  You 
cannot  compromise  with  God.  If  you  know  that 
you  cannot  be  happy  in  the  cloister  you  have  no 
right  to  seek  its  shelter.  You  call  me  foolish  to 
intrude,  to  interrupt  a  life  like  yours,  dedicated 
to  calmness  and  repose.  Good  God!  Do  you 
think  that  I  have  not  fought  a  battle,  too?  To 
leave  you  to  seek  your  own  destruction  when  I 
know  now  that  in  your  heart  you  hesitate?  It  is 
more  than  mortal  man  could  promise." 

*'  What  right  have  you  to  assume  that  I  hesi- 
tate? "  she  said,  her  face  deathly  pale. 

He  leaned  toward  her.  His  face  became  as 
white  as  her  own. 

**  The  right  every  man  has  who  loves  a  woman 

[169] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i$ 

and,  loving  her,  knows  her  as  I  know  you.  I 
knew  from  the  moment  I  saw  you  that  you  were 
unhappy.  I  thought  It  was  because  of  your  engage- 
ment to  your  cousin.  I  was  confirmed  in  my 
belief  of  your  unhappiness  on  the  night  of  the 
ball,  when  for  a  moment  you  opened  your  heart 
to  me.  I  have  known  it  a  hundred  times  since. 
Dare  you  deny  it?  " 

She  seemed  really  frightened,  but  she  struggled 
for  composure  to  reply.  Her  voice,  when  it  came, 
was  distinct  and  vibrant  with  anger. 

"  Lieutenant  Harrington,"  she  said,  "  you  have 
talked  to  me  as  no  one  has  ever  dared  to  talk 
before,  and  I  deny  your  right  to  question  or  to 
think  of  me  at  all." 

But  his  passion  equaled  hers.  He  saw  that  at 
last  he  had  touched  her. 

"  I  cannot  reason  whether  it  is  right  or  wrong," 
he  said.  "  I  only  know  that  my  heart  cries  out 
for  you  —  that  I  love  you  with  every  drop  of 
blood  in  my  body.  And  though  you  bar  me 
entrance  to  your  heart  I  still  will  not  see  you 
sacrifice  yourself  if  I  can  prevent  it.  You  cannot 
blast  my  love  from  your  existence.  It  is  a  part  of 
me,  and  though  it  may  never  become  a  part  of 

[  170] 


Clemenna's!  Ctl0is 

you  I  would  steal  you  from  the  convent  itself  to 
save  you." 

Clemencia  was  numbed  by  the  violence  of  his 
speech.  Yet,  despite  her  horror,  she  was  con- 
scious that  her  own  heart  beat  so  loudly  that  she 
feared  he  would  hear  it.  She  felt  his  exhilaration. 
She  knew  he  had  read  her  rightly,  had  spoken 
the  truth,  and,  like  the  primitive  woman,  her 
spirit  took  pride  in  his  strength  and  power,  and 
her  heart  leaped  out  to  meet  his.  But  outwardly 
she  was  calm.  She  would  give  no  hint  which 
would  betray  her;  but  he,  fearing  her  protesta- 
tions, said  hurriedly: 

"  It  is  too  late.  I  cannot  draw  back  now  and 
will  not.  I  will  fight  to  gain  your  love  even  in 
the  face  of  your  anger.  And,  Miss  Castellanos, 
you  have  given  me  the  right  to  fight  for  you." 


[171] 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

CLEMENCIA  remained  silent.  Never 
before  had  she  faced  a  man  who  was  so 
moved  and  who  so  moved  her.  His  intense 
manner  and  vehement  words  carried  her  along 
with  him.  At  first  she  had  been  shocked,  but 
now  she  was  caught  in  the  current  of  his  feeling. 
At  his  last  sentence  she  drew  back  as  though  she 
had  been  struck.  In  a  voice  scarcely  above  a 
whisper  she  said: 

"  I  do  not  understand.  When  did  I  give  you 
permission  to  fight  for  me?  " 

"  You  once  declared  to  me  that  you  did  not 
believe  in  mental  telepathy,  Senorita.  Look  me 
squarely  in  the  eyes  and  make  your  denial  now." 

Clemencia  trembled  violently.  Barrington 
leaned  forward  and  caught  her  arms  in  a  nervous 
grip.     She  snatched  away  and  said: 

"  You  speak  in  riddles  —  I  do  not  sense  your 
meaning." 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  do  not?  " 

[  172] 


Clemencia's;  Cri0i0 

The  girl  stared  at  him  blankly  and  seemed 
unable  to  reply. 

Barrington,  taking  advantage  of  her  silence, 
went  on: 

''  Then  listen  —  I  will  offer  ho  explanation  of 
what  I  am  about  to  say  to  you  because  none  pre- 
sents itself  to  me.  I  will  simply  tell  you  facts. 
Three  nights  before  I  met  you  you  appeared  to 
me  in  a  dream.  You  told  me  that  you  were  in 
great  distress  and  begged  me  to  save  you  from 
some  calamitous  happening  which  seemed  about 
to  befall  you." 

Clemencia's  face  crimsoned  and  she  covered  it 
with  her  hands.     She  was  silent. 

He  went  on: 

*'  I  have  often  wondered  whether  you,  too,  had 
been  conscious  that  you  appeared  to  me  in  that 
dream.  More  than  once  I  have  referred  to  it. 
Each  time  your  manner  led  me  to  believe  that 
perhaps  you  already  understood  what  I  was  trying 
to  reveal.  I  shall  conceal  nothing  now.  I  shall 
lay  bare  my  heart." 

Clemencia  drew  her  hands  away  from  her  face. 
She  haughtily  threw  back  her  head  as  if  his  implied 
compliment  was  distasteful  to  her,  but  her  cheeks 

[  173  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

were  colorless  and  her  agitation  was  apparent. 
Barrlngton  seemed  not  to  notice  it  and  under  the 
stress  of  his  feelings  scarcely  paused  in  his  recital. 

"  Even  before  that  dream,  Miss  Castellanos, 
you  had  already  appealed  to  me  for  aid,  although 
I  did  not  at  once  connect  the  two  experiences." 

*'  You  mean  when  — "  she  began.  Harrington 
interrupted  her  quickly. 

**  I  mean  when,  in  the  garb  of  a  nun,  you  were 
kneeling  in  the  dust  and  I  helped  you  to  your  feet." 

Clemencia  broke  out  defiantly: 

"  No!     No!     I  did  not  speak  one  word!  " 

"  That  is  true,"  he  interrupted  rapidly.  "  You 
spoke  no  word,  yet  I  am  sure  you  were  conscious 
of  the  asking." 

The  man  expected  a  storm  of  denial,  but  it  did 
not  break.  After  a  moment,  in  which  Clemencia 
struggled  to  regain  her  composure,  she  spoke  to 
him.     Her  voice  was  calm. 

"  You  are  right.  Lieutenant  Barrington.  On 
that  occasion  I  did  ask  your  aid  in  just  the  manner 
which  you  have  suggested." 

"  You  were  conscious,  then,  of  making  the 
appeal?"  Barrington  spoke  sternly. 

"  I  was  conscious  of  doing  so." 

[174] 


Clemenna'0  Cri0i0 

"  Then  why  have  you  practically  denied  it 
tome?" 

"  Because  I  was  afraid." 

"Of  what?"  he  asked  eagerly.  ''And  why 
did  you  choose  me,  a  stranger,  to  ask  for  help?  " 

"  I  cannot  explain  —  I  was  desperate,  I  sup- 
pose. I  had  a  premonition  of  disaster  when  the 
nuns  left  me.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  sur- 
rounded by  hateful,  screaming  harpies  crying, 
'  Go  back  to  the  convent !  '  In  my  excess  of  terror 
and  nervousness  I  broke  down  and  at  that  moment 
you  stood  before  me.  My  silent  cry  for  help  was 
impulsive.  I  willed  that  you  should  understand 
me.  I  knew  that  such  things  had  been  done  and 
that  sometimes  wordless  thoughts  are  exchanged 
between  persons.     And  —  and  —  that  is  all!  " 

The  girl  was  pitiful  in  her  distress.  Barring- 
ton's  heart  yearned  for  her,  and  for  a  moment 
he  wavered  in  his  purpose.  He  did  not  wish  to 
insist  on  further  revelations,  but  how  was  he  to 
help  her  if  he  spared  her  at  this  time?  He  felt 
that  he  had  a  right  to  demand  more,  and  in  spite 
of  her  evident  distress  he  went  on: 

"  You  surely  called  me  in  the  dream  that 
night  —  did  you  see  me  as  I  saw  you?  " 

[I7S] 


Clemencfa'0  Cri0i0 

The  girl  humbly  nodded  an  affirmative. 

''  Then  before  I  met  you  at  the  Heltons'  you 
knew  of  the  dream?" 

"  Yes/' 

"  I  thought  so,"  he  answered.  "  It  was  tele- 
pathic! "  There  was  a  note  of  elation  and  tri- 
umph in  his  voice. 

A  great  fatigue  seemed  to  possess  Clemencia, 
and  when  she  spoke  it  was  in  a  slow,  tired  voice. 

"  When  I  found  that  you  had  answered  my 
first  appeal,  there  on  the  edge  of  the  desert,  I 
realized  that  I  possessed  the  power  to  call  you 
to  my  side,  and  so  I  said  to  myself,  '  I  will  tell 
him  more  tonight.'  Therefore,  after  every  one 
had  retired,  I  went  into  the  library  and  sent  my 
imperative  call  to  you." 

"You  saw  me?" 

"  As  well  as  I  do  at  this  moment.  You  stood 
before  me  and  spoke  to  me." 

*'  And  with  this  miracle  between  us,  this  proof 
of  a  sympathy  so  deep  that  master  minds  cannot 
explain  it,  you  dare  deny  me  the  right  to  answer 
those  calls?  " 

"  Oh,  Lieutenant  Barrington,"  cried  the  girl, 
strugghng  for  composure,  "  what  does  it  all  sig- 

[176] 


Clemenda'0  Cri0i0 

nify?  Only  that  in  a  moment  of  weakness  I 
yielded  to  temptation,  a  yielding  which  I  now 
heartily  regret." 

*'  It  proves,"  he  answered,  "  that  you  are  about 
to  make  a  terrible  mistake.  It  proves  that  should 
you  become  the  church's  bride  you  will  commit  a 
crime,  because  you  realize  you  were  sincere  both 
times  when  you  called  for  help,  and  that  your 
heart  does  not  belong  to  the  convent.  I  shall 
prevent  you  from  this  rash  act  in  spite  of  your- 
self." 

"  No,  no,"  she  cried.  The  girl  seemed  shaken 
by  the  young  officer's  vehemence.  She  drew  back 
in  terror.  "  I  have  regained  my  strength.  I  will 
not  yield  to  weakness  again.  I  have  chosen  my 
life  path  and  I  forbid  you  to  interfere." 


[  177] 


^flTrUmni"''^ 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 


THE  friendship  between  Barrlngton  and 
Padre  Galvez  was  a  source  of  much 
pleasure  to  both.  Somehow  the  old  padre  always 
reminded  the  young  American  of  the  knights  of 
old  —  those  men  who  had  fought  to  win  or  die. 
Interest  between  the  two  was  strengthened  by 
associations  of  the  past.  In  her  girlhood  Har- 
rington's mother  had  known  and  admired  the 
young  Spaniard  who  had  become  Padre  Galvez. 
The  elder  Galvez,  his  father,  had  been  an  uncle 
of  the  King  of  Spain.  He  had  held  an  Important 
post  at  Madrid.  The  son,  RIcardo,  was  twenty- 
seven  years  of  age  and  already  remarkable  for 
his  learning  when  he  met  Harrington's  mother, 
then  In  the  first  flush  of  youth.     But  the  spoiled 

[178] 


Clemencia'0  €xM% 

and  lovely  girl  had  also  a  brilliant  mind.  She 
was  quick  to  discern  a  kindred  spirit  in  the  young 
Spaniard.  The  latter  recognized  in  the  imperious 
beauty  a  worth  far  beyond  the  physical  attrac- 
tion which  she  undoubtedly  possessed.  Uncon- 
sciously they  had  been  drawn  together  into  a 
memorable  intimacy.  In  those  days,  long  ago, 
Maude  Arslan  had  said  to  herself  many  times: 

*'  Ricardo  alone  understands  me,  and  it  is 
because  his  love  is  not  the  love  of  man  for  woman; 
it  is  true  comradeship;  it  will  last  forever." 

But  with  all  her  wisdom  and  acumen  she  had 
failed  to  know  the  heart  of  Ricardo  Galvez.  He 
loved  her  with  a  passionate  but  silent  love.  To 
the  serious-minded  young  Spaniard  nothing  was 
so  alluring  as  this  audacious  Irish  girl,  whose 
bewitching  manners  and  beauty  bewildered  him. 

Yet  as  strongly  attached  as  Ricardo  was  to  the 
girl,  when  he  saw  that  she  had  given  her  heart 
to  John  Barrington  he  went  his  way  and  she  never 
dreamed  of  the  true  nature  of  his  devotion.  But 
often,  as  he  walked  in  the  warm  sunlight  among 
the  trees  and  flowers,  he  would  see  again,  in  ret- 
rospect, her  face  as  she  had  once  turned  it  toward 
him  and  whispered: 

[  179] 


Clemencia'0  Crisis! 

"  RIcardo,  my  only  friend,  I  am  so  happy  that 
you  alone  have  understood  my  heart  from  the 
very  first,  because  of  our  warm  friendship.  Even 
John  has  not  understood  so  well." 

Galvez  had  smiled  courageously  and  kissed  her 
hand,  thanking  God  that  she  did  not  know  his 
heart  as  he  knew  hers.  Now,  after  all  these  years, 
he  could  truthfully  say  that  the  husband  was  not 
less  dear  to  him  than  this  white  love  of  his  youth. 
The  coming  of  their  son  to  him  had  touched  the 
dry  places  in  his  heart,  making  them  to  bloom 
again  with  memories  of  the  past. 

Padre  Galvez  was  too  keen  an  observer  of 
men  not  to  see  that  Harrington's  mind  was  weighed 
with  some  secret  matter  of  import. 

The  two  men  were  seated  together  on  the 
balcony  built  around  the  mission  turret.  Every- 
thing was  in  readiness  for  the  festival  which 
Senora  Castellanos  was  about  to  give  for  the 
entertainment  of  the  fleet.  Padre  Galvez  felt 
great  satisfaction  that  the  senora  had  been  pla- 
cated, for  he  knew  that  she  could  be  relied  upon 
to  dispense  true  Spanish  hospitality  in  her  own 
home. 

The  sun,  a  red  ball  of  fire,  had  sunk  into  the 
[i8o] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i$ 

Pacific  and  in  the  east  a  faint  star  glimmered. 
The  peace  of  the  great  night  silence  was 
approaching. 

Harrington's  voice  at  last  broke  the  stillness. 

"  Padre,"  he  said,  "  I  am  in  dire  distress. 
Would  you  help  me  if  I  needed  your  assistance?  " 

The  old  priest  looked  up  in  amazement,  as  if 
trying  to  grasp  the  full  meaning  of  his  friend's 
words.  Then  he  said  slowly  and  as  though  a 
little  hurt : 

"  Can  you  doubt  it,  my  son?  " 

Instinctively  the  priest  had  put  out  his  hand. 
The  younger  man  grasped  and  pressed  it.  Padre 
Galvez  awaited  Harrington's  confidence. 

"  Padre,  I  may  ask  you  for  all  the  help  that 
your  words  promise,  for  mine  is  a  question  which 
the  church  must  decide." 

The  American  got  to  his  feet  and  paced  rest- 
lessly back  and  forth  as  if  to  regain  his  composure. 
Finally  he  said: 

"  Padre,  I  love  a  woman."  His  voice  was  low 
and  tense.  "  I  love  her  with  all  the  strength  that 
is  in  me.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  she  is 
interested  in  me,  but  there  is  a  duel  between  us 
because  she  feels  that  it  would  be  a  sin  to  yield, 
[i8i] 


Clemenna'0  Cti0i0 

so  she  Is  fighting  me."  Barrington  ceased  speak- 
ing. He  nervously  paced  the  balcony  to  ease  the 
stress  of  his  emotions. 

The  priest  did  not  answer  at  once.  When  he 
did  speak  his  voice  was  quite  grave. 

"  Why  does  she  feel  so,  my  son?  You  are  not 
bound?" 

"  No,  padre,  but  she  has  made  a  mistake  in 
her  life.  She  fancies  herself  held  by  a  vow  and 
turns  from  me,  refusing  to  free  herself.  Yet  no 
bonds  on  earth  shall  separate  us  if  I  find  that  her 
heart  is  mine.  Right  or  wrong,  she  shall  belong 
to  me." 

The  priest's  face  paled  with  anger  and  surprise. 
He  arose  and  when  he  spoke  his  voice  was  sharp 
and  thin  and  lashed  like  a  whip. 

"  I  retract  the  offer  made  a  moment  ago,  sir. 
I  spoke  hastily  when  I  promised  to  aid  you." 

Absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts  and  forgetting 
that  he  had  not  revealed  the  nature  of  the  bond 
which  held  Clemencia,  Barrington  answered  bit- 
terly: 

"  If  your  God  is  a  just  God  He  will  give  me 
the  woman  I  love.  But  even  if  the  church  refuses 
its  blessing  I  shall  bid  her  come  to  me  without  it." 

[182] 


I 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

"  You  speak  blasphemously,  sir.  You  are  no 
Catholic.  No  true  son  of  the  church  would  use 
such  words." 

The  long,  dark  face  of  the  priest  showed 
pinched  and  drawn  in  the  evening  shadows.  The 
expression  in  his  eyes  was  the  same  as  If  a  knife 
were  being  turned  In  his  heart.  He  realized  how 
he  had  idolized  this  young  man,  the  son  of  the 
girl  whom  he  had  loved,  and  he  thought  he  saw 
how  far  his  idol  had  fallen.  His  words,  though 
spoken  in  an  even  tone,  were  heavy  with  contempt : 

"  The  bond  of  marriage  is  lasting  forever  and 
a  day.  Divorce  never  frees  a  Catholic  man  or 
woman.  You  cannot  marry  her  and  keep  your 
church." 

The  two  men  faced  each  other  in  a  tumult  of 
distress.  As  they  stood  thus  there  flashed  before 
Harrington's  mental  vision  the  luminous  face  of 
his  beloved.  Her  pale  beauty  haunted  him.  He 
gave  the  priest  look  for  look. 

"  Padre,"  he  said,  "  I  have  misled  you.  The 
bond  which  holds  the  woman  I  love  is  not  mar- 
riage." 

"Not  marriage?"  exclaimed  the  astonished 
priest.     "  What  bond  then  could  separate  you?  " 

[183] 


Clemenda'0  Crisis 

"  Are  there  not  other  vows,  my  padre,  which 
are  held  just  as  binding  in  the  sight  of  our  church? 
Oh,  padre,  trust  me.    I  cannot  tell  you  more  now." 

The  priest  grasped  the  hand  extended  to  him, 
but  he  was  puzzled.  He  could  not  understand. 
At  that  moment,  however,  the  bell  in  the  tall  spire 
of  the  nunnery  pealed  forth.  The  priest  sud- 
denly thought  of  Clemencia,  as  he  always  did 
whenever  the  nuns  came  to  his  mind.  His  spirit 
was  constantly  troubled  about  the  girl.  Like  an 
electric  shock  it  flashed  upon  him.  He  knew,  of 
course,  of  Arslan's  friendship  with  her.  He 
searched  the  young  man's  face  anxiously,  and  as 
he  did  so  his  own  lighted  up  with  a  strange,  soft 
glow. 

"  The  fancied  bond,"  he  questioned,  "  which 
holds  this  woman  is  a  holy  one,  is  it  not?  " 

The  American  nodded.  Padre  Galvez's  face 
was  eloquent  in  its  agitation. 

"  My  son,"  he  said,  "  there  is  no  need  to  tell 
me  her  name;  it  is  engraved  here."  The  priest 
laid  his  hand  upon  his  heart. 

"  Then,  padre,"  Barrington  said  impulsively, 
"  cherish  it  in  that  sanctuary  as  I  cherish  it  in  mine, 
and  until  she  speaks  let  it  be  guarded  well." 

[184] 


Clemenria'0  Ctf0i0 

"  But,  my  son,  why  could  I  not  aid  you  better 
if  I  spoke?" 

"  Not  yet,  padre.  She  is  not  yet  ready  to  hear 
the  truth  from  you." 

Reluctantly  the  priest  signified  his  consent  to 
silence.  His  arms  went  affectionately  across  the 
young  man's  shoulders. 

"  If  your  faith  be  as  great  as  a  grain  of  mus- 
tard seed  you  can  move  mountains.  If  you  win 
her  you  will  gain  a  wonderful  soul  to  cherish  your 
life  long  through,  and  the  blessings  of  the  holy 
mother  church  will  be  yours." 

That  night  Padre  Galvez  knelt  in  the  sanctuary 
of  the  mission.  He  lit  two  candles  and  stayed 
through  all  the  hours  that  they  burned.  In  his 
heart  the  good  old  priest  was  saying  exultantly: 

"  Her  son  is  a  knight  of  King  Arthur  —  he  is 
straight  like  a  cedar  of  Lebanon  —  straight  and 
strong.    He  is  worthy  of  her." 


[I8S] 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

PERHAPS  the  prime  requisite  for  a  successful 
career  is  adaptability.  Unless  one  can  adapt 
one's  self  to  change  much  suffering  lies  along  and 
at  the  end  of  the  road.  Often  if  grave  and  serious 
matters  are  determined  upon  in  early  youth  we 
find  later  these  principles  have  assumed  the  gro- 
tesque. 

But  Senora  Castellanos  was  not  adaptable;  she 
was  of  another  time  than  the  present;  nor  was 
she  of  those  women  who  shape  events  to  their 
own  ends.  The  senora  was  an  old-school  Span- 
iard to  the  core.  Her  hatred  of  all  things  Ameri- 
can was  proverbial  among  those  who  knew  her. 
Added  to  this  national  dislike,  which  was 
ingrained  in  the  old  dowager,  was  that  closer  and 
more  personal  hatred  which  centered  about  the 
tragic  life  of  her  beloved  daughter,  Clemencia's 
mother. 

Small  wonder,  then,  that  the  good  residents  of 
Santa  Barbara  were  deeply  surprised  when  they 
[i86] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

learned  that  the  Senora  Castellanos  had  consented 
to  open  her  magnificent  grounds  and  her  home 
for  a  fete  in  honor  of  the  American  fleet. 

But  though  the  acquaintances  of  the  senora 
knew  of  her  hate  for  men  and  things  American, 
they  did  not  guess  of  the  poison  of  her  rancor. 
Not  even  Padre  Galvez,  who  was  her  confessor, 
knew,  and  often  as  the  old  priest  paced  his  pillared 
cloister,  reading  his  breviary  and  meditating  upon 
the  evanescence  of  earthly  things,  he  sighed  sadly 
as  he  thought  of  the  stern  old  woman  and  of  the 
girl  who  was  her  grandchild.  More  than  once 
the  padre  and  the  Senora  Castellanos  had  spoken 
on  the  subject  of  Clemencia. 

"  It  is  not  true,"  he  had  said  on  one  occasion, 
"  that  God  always  demands  sacrifices  from  his 
elect." 

To  this  the  senora  had  answered: 

"  But  these  are  the  impressionable  years  —  the 
years  during  which  she  should  learn  the  sterner 
side  of  life." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  priest,  "  I  would  rather  see 
Clemencia  less  serious-minded  and  more  taken  by 
those  frivolities  which  are  natural  to  a  girl  of  her 
age." 

[187] 


Clementia'0  Cri0i0 


Santa  Barbara  was  wel- 
coming the  stately,  great 
ships.  Bronze-faced  blue- 
jackets and  jocular  ma- 
rines, no  less  tanned, 
thronged  the  streets  of 
the  California  city.  By 
day  and  by  night  processions  bearing  banners  on 
which  were  written  welcoming  legends  paraded 
the  wide  thoroughfares. 

This  was  the  night  of  the  Senora  Castellanos' 
festival.    Very  regal  she  looked  as  she  stood  with 
her  granddaughter  to  receive  the  guests  in  the 
[i88] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

large  reception  hall  which  ran  the  entire  length 
of  the  patio.  Her  hair,  snowy  white,  was  drawn 
simply  back  and  without  adornment.  Her  black 
dress  was  relieved  of  somberness  by  trimmings 
of  priceless  lace.  The  old  woman's  darkly  patri- 
cian face  and  her  vivid  black  eyes  lent  her  the 
appearance  of  some  aged  yet  still  vital  empress 
who  gave  audiences  to  those  who  paid  her  fealty. 

Clemencia,  like  a  slender  lily,  jewelless,  stood 
beside  her.  In  her  simplicity  she  was  strikingly 
beautiful.  Her  garments,  like  the  morning  mists, 
were  filmy  white,  but  she  stood  in  them  like 
Phoebe  emerging  from  the  clouds.  Manuel 
Sanchez,  the  nearest  relative,  was  there  also.  At 
the  senora's  request  he  was  dispensing  hospitality 
as  man  of  the  house.  Handsome  in  his  dark, 
daredevil  way,  he  mingled  with  the  guests  and 
was  conspicuous  wherever  he  went.  Near  by 
Padre  Galvez,  dignified  and  courtly,  held  his 
coterie,  and  the  few  priests  present,  coming  and 
going  in  their  dark  gowns  among  the  gayly  dressed 
women  and  gold-braided  officers,  seemed  to  add 
to  the  charm  peculiar  to  that  wonderful  valley  of 
California. 

There  is  no  more  courtly  class  in  the  world 

[189] 


Clemencia'0  Cri$i$ 

than  the  cultivated  Spaniard.  Padre  Galvez  and 
his  hostess  each  showed  the  marks  of  gentle  blood 
In  their  bearing,  though  they  represented  widely 
dissimilar  types.  Clemencia  was  representative 
of  still  another  t3rpe;  the  blood  of  a  younger  and 
more  virile  race  flowed  warmly  in  her  veins. 

The  grandmother,  perhaps,  was  the  most 
strongly  Individualized  of  the  three;  and  yet  the 
austerely  calm  face  of  the  padre  was  one  to 
remember.  In  it  shone  the  light  of  a  great 
spiritual  happiness,  a  happiness  which  clothes  only 
those  who  give  their  lives  for  others.  He  believed 
that  the  real  workers  of  the  human  race,  hearing 
the  cry  of  destiny  and  pushing  onward  with  heads 
erect,  will  in  time  overcome  all  obstacles,  because, 
above  the  silence  of  the  stars,  their  work  is 
planned,  and  that  some  day,  the  great  work 
at  last  accomplished,  we  shall  reach  the  peaks  of 
wisdom. 

The  echo  of  laughter  and  merry  talk  was 
everywhere.  It  seemed  as  if  some  gay  magician 
had  waved  a  mysterious  wand  over  the  house  and 
grounds  of  the  Castellanos.  All  about  the  place 
were  hung  innumerable  little  Chinese  lanterns,  and 
above  the  open  and  wooden-floored  tents  for  the 

[  190] 


dancers  fluttered  vivid  pennants.  Soft-footed 
servants  glided  in  and  out  among  the  guests. 

A  number  of  festivities  had  been  planned,  but 
the  feature  of  the  evening  would  be  the  dancing 
of  a  bevy  of  Spanish  girls  and  their  partners  in 
the  patio  at  ten  o'clock.  The  dance  would  end  all 
entertainment  save  the  dancing  of  the  guests.  A 
hush  fell  upon  the  crowd  when  promptly  at  the 
time  the  four  dancing  girls  entered.  They  were 
followed  by  four  young  men.  The  girls  wore 
brilliant  yellow  gowns  with  trimmings  of  gold, 
and  represented  priestesses  of  the  Sun  God.  The 
dress  of  the  men  was  of  the  same  color,  with 
sashes  of  red,  symbolizing  the  fiery  beams  of  the 
sun.    All  of  them  carried  sunlike  disks  as  shields. 

They  began  a  weird  and  curious  dance,  with 
graceful  and  intricate  figures  representing  cere- 
monies sacred  to  the  Sun  God. 

In  and  out  the  gayly  appareled  dancers  trod 
to  the  measure  of  music  that  sometimes  spoke  in 
low  tones  of  passion  and  sometimes  sounded 
trumpets  of  battle. 

Harrington  had  never  before  witnessed  the 
Sun  dance.  He  found  that  it  stirred  him  strangely, 
and  he  wondered  just  how  fine  the  line  is  that 

[191] 


Clemencfa'0  Crf0i0 

separates  the  so-called  love  of  culture  and  civiliza- 
tion from  the  savage. 

The  young  naval  officer  was  quick  to  discern 
that  the  one  whom  he  loved  was  also  deeply 
moved.  She  stood  at  some  distance  and  on  the 
other  side  of  the  dancers  from  him,  but  in  her 
heightened  color,  her  glowing  eyes  and  the  quick 
tapping  of  her  right  foot  on  the  floor  he  read 
other  emotions  than  those  which  are  welcome 
behind  the  peaceful  doors  of  a  nunnery. 

Quick  and  hearty  applause  marked  the  end  of 
the  dance,  after  which  the  patio  was  deserted  for 
the  pavilions. 

Harrington  and  Clemencia  had  taken  but  a  few 
steps  of  an  intoxicating  waltz  when  he  drew  her 
out  of  the  pavilion.  In  silence  they  walked  to  a 
distant  corner  of  the  grounds  where  the  artificial 
lights  could  not  disturb  a  clear  view  of  the  night. 

There  they  found  a  bench  and  rested  upon  it. 
There  was  no  moon  and  the  constellations  looked 
larger,  more  luminous,  while  the  air  between 
seemed  to  twinkle  in  purple  lights.  Harrington 
spoke  softly. 

"  The  whole  of  nature  seems  to  change  under 
the  sheen  and  sparkle  of  the  sky  jewels." 

[  192] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

Clemencia  sighed.  "  No  tongue  or  pen  can  tell 
the  glory  of  the  heavens,"  she  answered. 

"  True,"  he  said.  "  Yet  looking  once  into  that 
dome  of  blue  with  its  jeweled  tapestry,  even 
though  he  should  never  see  it  again,  the  soul  of 
man  could  never  forget." 

"  I  feel  as  you  do.  Those  tiny  curtains  of 
flame  fluttering  between  dusk  and  dawn  have  no 
match  in  the  whole  universe  for  charm  and  mys- 
tery." 

The  vastness  and  the  beauty  of  the  night  was 
upon  them  both.  It  was  the  first  time  for  several 
days  that  they  had  been  alone.  The  man  in  him 
was  crying  to  be  heard.  He  could  not  neglect  this 
opportunity. 

"  Miss  Castellanos,"  Barrington's  voice  was 
very  soft  and  pleading,  "  I  frightened  you  the 
other  night  by  my  vehemence.  I  entreat  your 
pardon.  My  feelings  carried  me  to  the  point  of 
selfishness.  I  wished  to  convince  you  by  reason 
that  you  had  no  right  to  become  a  nun.  I  failed 
utterly  because  the  personal  note  was  too  strong." 

*'  Why  is  it,"  she  answered  in  a  cool  voice  which 
ignored  a  part  of  his  sentence,  "  that  you  persist 
in  saying  that  I  have  no  right  to  become  a  nun  ?  " 

[  193  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  he  said,  his  voice  gaining 
strength.  "  You  have  no  right  to  become  a  nun 
because  deep  down  in  your  nature  you  realize 
that  you  were  bound  by  a  promise  before  you 
understood  the  import  of  the  oath  that  you  took, 
and  because,  though  once  ignorant  and  therefore 
happy,  you  have  now  awakened  to  the  seriousness 
of  your  vow.  There  is  in  you  now  a  dumb  pro- 
test. You  know  now  that  you  will  not  be  content 
in  a  nunnery.     Is  it  not  true?  " 

Harrington's  eyes  were  full  of  fire  as  he  spoke, 
and  Clemencia  shrank  from  his  gaze.  Her  mind 
was  a  chaos  of  wild  thoughts.  What  was  this 
elemental  tumult  within  her? 

With  a  pang  of  fear  the  girl  sensed  that  this 
man's  argument  carried  a  dangerous  appeal.  The 
fear  was  not  lessened  when  she  found  that  his 
viewpoint  did  not  outrage  her  own  feelings. 

What  if,  after  all,  she  were  only  a  religious 
fanatic?  But  her  grandmother  —  surely  her 
grandmother,  who  loved  her  best,  was  right.  This 
man  spoke  only  out  of  his  own  worldly  wisdom. 

"  You  are  mistaken;  I  am  quite  free  to  choose. 
No  one  compels  my  choice." 

Clemencia's    color    was    heightened    and    her 

[  194] 


Clemenaa'0  Cri0i0 

breathing  was  rapid,  but  she  looked  straight  into 
Barrington's  eyes  with  an  undisturbed  glance. 
The  man  gazed  back  at  her  and  voiced  a  little 
laugh. 


[195] 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

''T_TOW  can  you  call  it  freedom  when  all  of 
A  A  your  youth  has  been  weighted  with  this 
one  hideously  tyrannous  thought  —  the  thought 
that  salvation  may  be  gained  only  through  the 
cloister?  "  demanded  Harrington,  *'  Your  grand- 
mother is  a  remarkably  clever  woman  and  no 
doubt  she  loves  you  deeply,  but  she  is  prejudiced 
and  creed  ridden.  She  believed  that  only  by  this 
spiritual  bond  could  you  be  brought  not  to  your 
God  but  to  hers.  Therefore  she  has  system- 
atically spent  her  days  in  attempting  to  convince 
you  of  this.  In  her  mistaken  zeal  for  your  seem- 
ingly imperiled  future  she  has  bent  her  energy 
toward  making  you  believe  what  she  told  you. 
Small  wonder,  then,  that  she  has  succeeded.  Miss 
Castellanos,  do  not  think  for  a  moment  that  you 
were  ever  free  to  choose.  Every  corner  of  your 
mind  has  been  crammed  with  your  grandmother's 
logic.     Every  enthusiasm  of  your  youth  has  been 

[196] 


Clemenda'0  Cn0i0 

directed  to  her  purpose.  Your  spiritual  slavery 
has  been  complete." 

Barrington  paused  a  moment.  The  girl  took 
advantage  of  the  interval  in  his  talk  and  began 
speaking. 

"  Granting  that  all  this  is  true  —  what  differ- 
ence does  it  make?  Padre  Galvez  insisted  upon 
my  knowledge  of  the  world.  Am  I  not  free  to 
choose  now?  " 

Harrington's  words  had  made  her  uneasy  and 
she  spoke  in  quick,  staccato  sentences.  The  man 
leaned  eagerly  toward  her. 

"  You  must  make  me  a  promise,"  he  said 
sternly.  She  noted  that  he  did  not  answer  her 
question. 

"Must?"  she  queried.  A  signal  of  danger 
was  in  her  voice,  but  he  ignored  it. 

"  You  must  swear  to  tell  Padre  Galvez  that  I 
love  you,"  he  said  quickly. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  overestimate  the  importance 
of  the  fact,"  she  answered.  "  It  would  do  no 
good,  anyway  —  the  padre  cannot  influence  my 
determination." 

"  It  is  not  the  padre  who  will  decide  your 
future,"  said  Barrington. 

[  197] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

"  Pray,  then,  if  not  he,  who  can  Influence  me?  " 
The  man's  face  was  as  white  as  death  and  his 
eyes  blazed  as  he  answered: 

((    T    5> 

She  looked  bravely  at  him,  though  she  trembled. 

"  What  right  have  you.  Lieutenant  Barring- 
ton?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Because  —  because  I  love  you.  Is  that  not 
enough?"  he  whispered,  making  a  movement  to 
take  her  In  his  arms.  She  leapt  to  her  feet. 
Barrington  stood  almost  as  quickly.  His  blood 
was  beating  madly  like  little  drums  In  his  ears. 
He  was  dizzy  with  the  vision  of  her  as  she  stood 
in  the  night's  warm  glow.  Never  before  had 
she  seemed  so  desirable  to  him.  His  eyes  drank 
her  in.  He  noted  with  a  throb  in  his  throat  that 
she  was  trembling  violently. 

The  man  took  a  quick  step  toward  her.  He 
held  out  his  arms. 

''Don't — don't — "  Clemencia  pleaded  un- 
steadily, while  his  low,  glad  laugh  broke  on  her 
hearing.  He  gathered  her  close  and  crushed  her 
mouth  against  his  own.  She  lay  panting  against 
him. 

*'  I  love  you  —  I  love  you  — "  he  began  bro- 

[198] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

kenly.  *'  Give  yourself  up  to  the  truth  and  then 
swear  that  my  kiss  Is  distasteful  to  you  if  you 
can  I" 

Speechless,  she  lay  against  him  while  he  mur- 
mured soft  words  of  endearment.  Then  he 
released  her;  she  stood  white  and  silent.  Cle- 
mencia  felt  as  though  she  had  passed  through  the 
gates  of  death,  but  she  knew  that  she  had  caught 
a  fleeting  glimpse  of  heaven. 

He  was  speaking  to  her  again,  and  his  voice 
had  not  lost  its  vibrant  note  of  passion,  yet  a  new 
tone  was  in  it  —  a  tone  earnestly  calm. 

"  From  the  time  I  was  old  enough  to  reason," 
he  said,  ''  my  whole  life  has  been  directed  toward 
freedom.  Like  you,  I  determined  that  my  life 
should  be  as  I  willed  it.  The  thought  of  bondage 
has  always  been  distasteful  to  me.  Yet  all  my 
determination  avails  nothing  now,  for  you,  beau- 
tiful in  body  and  soul,  have  taken  me  prisoner. 
I  reason  with  myself  to  no  purpose.  I  know 
myself  conquered,  beaten,  because  I  see  only  you. 
In  the  mists  of  the  morning  you  rise  to  greet  me 
like  Aurora.  At  night  in  my  dreams  you  are 
with  me.  This  is  no  news  to  you,  because  you 
know  It.    Yet  you  would  ruin  my  life." 

[  199] 


Clemencja'0  Cri0i0 

"  It  Is  too  late,"  she  said  dully.  "  I  cannot 
retract  now." 

"  Not  even  when  you  know  that  you  are 
crushing  life  out  of  me?  "  he  asked,  hoarse  with 
feeling. 

"  Not  even  then,"  she  said  slowly.  "  I  dare 
not  draw  back  now." 

"  My  feelings  are  not  enough,  then?  "  he  said 
bitterly.  ''What  if  there  were  another — a 
stronger  reason?"  he  ventured. 

"  There  could  be  none,"  she  replied,  "  at  least 
none  that  I  could  consider,"  but  she  avoided  his 
eyes  uneasily. 

"  There  is  one,"  he  persisted.  "  One  that  you 
cannot  thrust  aside  lightly,  the  strength  of  which 
far  outweighs  all  your  arguments." 

"  I  cannot  listen  longer,"  she  said  hurriedly. 
"  I'm  doing  the  best  I  can  —  the  best  I  know 
how  with  my  life.  You  seem  bent  on  making  it 
hard." 

But  he  was  inexorable.    He  came  a  step  closer. 

"  I'm  making  it   hard  on  purpose,"   he   said, 

and  he  noticed  her  agitation  with  a   feeling  of 

exultation.     "  You  deny  all  that  I  say.    You  fight 

me  at  every  approach.     Yet  the  reason  I  offer  is 

[  200  ] 


Clemencm'0  Cri0i0 

too  potent  to  be  ignored  even  by  you.  It  Is  the 
fact  that  you  love  me  and  that  I  have  just  dis- 
covered it." 

He  expected  denial,  protestation,  but  to  his 
astonishment  she  retained  her  composure.  She 
had  reached  a  stage  when  the  simple  truth  without 
reserve  did  not  startle  her.  But  even  in  the  star- 
light he  could  not  miss  the  hot  color  flaming  in 
her  cheek  and  brow  as  she  turned  and  faced  him. 

"  You  might  have  spared  me  that  at  least," 
she  said  slowly,  "  but  since  you  will  have  it  — 
yes,  I  admit  it." 

He  seemed  to  grow  straighter,  taller,  but  he 
made  no  reply. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  true  that  I  do  love  you,"  she 
was  saying,  "  but  if  I  married  you  now  it  would 
seem  that  I  had  deserted  a  higher  sphere  for  a 
lower  one  and  had  done  it  dehberately." 

"  Not  if  you  love  me  — " 

She  withdrew  her  eyes  from  him,  but  he  could 
see  that  she  was  struggling  with  her  emotions. 
It  was  one  of  those  moments  when  it  is  difficult 
for  a  woman  to  keep  her  self-control.  But  she 
was  strong  and  the  boundary  line  was  not  yet 
crossed.  It  steadied  his  own  tingling  nerves  to 
[201  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

watch  her  as  he  waited  eagerly  for  the  answer 
on  which  their  destiny  seemed  to  wait. 

"  True  marriage  Implies  more  than  love.  That 
alone  would  not  make  us  happy.  If  I  were  untrue 
to  the  greatest  principle  of  my  life  —  the  higher 
object  I  have  sworn  to  reach  —  could  we  ever  be 
content?  Would  not  the  feeling  that  I  had  low- 
ered my  standard  —  that  I  had  probably  sent  my 
grandmother,  who  has  sacrificed  all  her  life  for 
me,  to  the  grave  heartbroken  because  of  my 
failure  —  rise  always  like  a  skeleton  between  us?  " 

"  No !  No  one's  life  can  be  laid  out  in  advance 
for  him  or  her  by  someone  else.  You  are  not 
responsible  for  what  has  happened  during  the 
last  two  months.  Nor  am  I.  If  I  have  come 
between  you  and  the  convent,  remember  that  I 
have  suffered  as  much  as  you  in  doing  so.  It 
would  be  sacrilege  for  you  to  become  a  nun  now 
because  of  the  feelings  you  harbor.  You  belong 
to  me !  " 

She  thrilled  with  a  curious  sensation  of  joy  as 
she  listened  to  his  words  yet  answered: 

"  In   consecrating   her  life    to   God   it   is   not 
unusual  for  a  woman  to  give  up  her  dearest  ties. 
I  should  only  be  one  of  many." 
[  202  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

"  Ah,  yes.  But  there  is  a  difference.  She  gives 
them  up  willingly.  In  your  case  it  is  desecration. 
You  are  unwilling,  and  the  fact  that  I  know  it 
and  that  I,  too,  am  unwilling  makes  it  a  crime. 
Beloved,  I  claim  you.  Listen  to  your  own  heart. 
You  are  bound  to  me  forever  and  /  have  not  the 
slightest  intention  of  giving  you  upJ^ 

Moved  by  his  persistence,  she  continued :  '*  You 
say  that  the  last  barrier  has  gone  down  between 
us.  To  me  it  seems  that  you  have  only  built  new 
ones.  Because  I  have  departed  from  the  princi- 
ples of  my  life  for  a  while  and  have  allowed  you 
to  make  love  to  me  is  no  reason  why  I  should 
forswear  those  principles  entirely.  I  would  hold 
myself  the  worst  woman  alive  if  I  should  be  so 
weak." 

He  stood  motionless  and  did  not  answer.  Curi- 
ously enough,  he  gloried  that  this  woman  in  the 
glow  of  youth  and  health  and  with  love  beating 
at  her  heart  could  still  deny  it  entrance.  Her 
determination  to  fight  him  mattered  little.  Now 
that  he  knew  her  heart  he  would  simply  take 
her  —  more  forcibly,  perhaps  —  but,  willing  or 
unwilling,  she  belonged  to  him! 

[203] 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THERE  comes  a  time  to  all  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  men  when  alone  and  unsup- 
ported they  must  face  life.  The  manner  in  which 
this  crisis  is  met  shows  the  true  measure  of  char- 
acter. These  crises  are  not  unlike  the  last  great 
ordeal  of  death;  they  who  love  and  who  are  loved 
may  not  give  comfort  in  the  hour  of  agony.  And 
so  it  was  with  Clemencia;  she  faced  her  crisis 
alone. 

After  leaving  the  dancing  pavilion  the  girl  went 
directly  to  her  room.  Her  brain  was  clear  now 
she  saw  that  her  temple  had  been  built  in  sand 
and  had  fallen. 

Clemencia  knew  that  her  hour  was  upon  her, 
like  the  doe  deer  arrow-wounded;  she  knew  that 
she  must  either  emerge  from  the  struggle  with  her 
hurt  healed  or  with  her  spirit  clothed  in  a  stoicism 
which  would  defy  the  world.  She  flung  on  a 
kimono,  unbound  her  long,  golden  hair  and  seated 
herself  in  a  chair  beside  an  open  window,  through 
[  204] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

which  the  cool  night  winds  blew  in  from  the  sea. 
The  sounds  of  laughter  and  music  came  to  her 
from  below,  but  the  sounds  seemed  alien  and 
remote. 

Her  temples  were  throbbing.  The  memory  of 
Harrington's  impetuous  kisses  still  stung  her  lips 
and  made  her  ashamed  with  a  shame  which  car- 
ried with  it  a  recompense  of  remembered  delight. 

The  girl  leaned  her  elbows  on  the  window  sill 
and  wondered  if  her  lover  was  seeking  her  below. 
The  memory  of  his  white  face,  his  vibrant  voice 
and  his  strong,  eager  arms  ran  through  her  like 
old  wine.  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  dusky,  star- 
studded  vault  overhead.  Somehow,  though,  the 
vision  failed  to  give  her  ease.  She  wanted  — 
she  wanted  his  arms  around  her  again,  and  she 
wanted  again  his  lips  upon  hers. 

Below  stairs  Clemencia  heard  the  guests  taking 
their  leave.  Still  she  sat  silent  in  the  window 
and  nursed  her  new-found  happiness.  Of  a 
sudden  she  left  her  seat  by  the  window,  snapped 
off  the  light,  and  slipped  into  bed. 

As  she  lay  quiet  she  admitted  to  herself  that 
Harrington  had  spoken  the  naked  truth.  It  struck 
her  with  a  thought  of  horror  that  she  could  take 
[205  ] 


Clemenria'0  Cri0i0 

no  comfort  from  truth.  She  had  believed  that 
the  truth  could  console  in  all  extremities.  She 
was  now  learning  that  the  truth  also  might  flay 
the  spirit  with  scorpion  whips. 

Every  word  that  Harrington  had  uttered  during 
their  Interview  beside  the  rustic  seat  was  burned 
Into  her  brain  as  by  a  white  hot  brand.  His  voice, 
the  voice  of  her  man,  called  to  her  to  come,  and 
its  note  was  powerful  with  the  primal  urge  of  life. 

Yet  she  fought  to  close  her  spiritual  ears  to  this 
voice  and  to  hearken  only  to  the  coldly  solemn 
command  of  the  mother  church. 

Over  and  over  again  the  wild  thought  flashed 
into  her  mind:  "What  If  I  should  stretch  out 
my  hand  and  snatch  this  new-found  happiness  in 
spite  of  all?  Will  it  not  recompense  me  for  loss 
of  all  else?  " 

All  night  the  spirit  of  Clemencia  Castellanos 
was  beaten  and  buffeted  in  a  sea  of  indecision, 
but  toward  morning  she  fell  Into  a  troubled  sleep, 
In  which  Barrlngton  seemed  to  come  again  to  her 
and  with  pale  lips  plead  for  his  happiness. 

The  girl's  slumbers  were  light  and  feverish. 
Shortly  after  dawn  she  arose  and  dressed  herself. 
Without  waiting  for  breakfast  to  be  served  in  her 
[206  ] 


Clemettcia'0  Cri0i0 


room  she  descended  the  stairs  and  left  a  note  on 
the  library  table  telling  her  grandmother  that  she 
had  gone  for  a  horseback  ride.  She  then  made 
her  way  out  to  the  stables,  aroused  a  sleepy  groom 
and  a  few  minutes  later  was  cantering  off  down 
the  long  white  road  that  led  toward  the  mountains. 
She  turned  her  mount's  head  toward  the  tall 
mountains  that  she  loved  so  well.  She  felt 
instinctively  that  they  would  soothe  her.  The 
quick  beat  of  a  horse's  hoofs,  the  wind  blowing 
[207] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

In  her  face,  and  the  long,  steady  movement  of 
the  animal  she  rode  seemed  to  quiet  the  fever  In 
her  blood. 

A  mile  and  a  half  from  the  patio  she  guided 
her  horse  out  of  the  main  road  and  along  a  steep 
path  which  ran  Its  rugged  way  to  the  top  of  a 
high  foothill.  On  the  crest  of  the  hill  she  halted 
her  horse  and  turned  to  gaze  out  over  the  ocean, 
that  eternally  changing  master  worker  In  color. 
As  far  as  she  could  see  Clemencia's  eyes  caught 
glimpses  of  swift,  white-tlpped  combers  endlessly 
fleeing  shoreward.  Above  her  the  wide  branches 
of  the  pine  trees  chanted  their  eternal  under  song, 
which  seems  life  Itself  made  audible.  From 
Inland  came  the  far,  faint  music  of  a  waterfall, 
hidden  among  trees. 

The  valley  which  lay  to  the  eastward  from  ridge 
to  ridge  was  filled  with  golden  light,  save  where 
now  and  then  the  shadows  of  sharp  peaks  pierced 
Its  loveliness.  In  the  distance  mission  bells  chimed 
to  mass,  but  to  the  ears  of  the  girl  they  sounded 
only  as  a  part  of  the  wonderful  daybreak  over 
Santa  Barbara. 

Bathed  in  the  glory  of  the  morning,  the  girl 
tried  to  forget  everything  but  the  marvelous  pan- 
[208] 


Clemenna'0  Cri0i0 

orama  spread  out  before  her  wondering  eyes. 
The  world,  with  all  Its  cares,  life  and  Its  unsub- 
stantial shadows  of  dreams,  receded.  Dimly  she 
wondered  if  Moses  had  not  felt  thus,  as  on  the 
peak  of  Nebo  he  caught  a  vision  of  that  land 
which  was  to  be  given  Into  the  keeping  of  the 
Sons  of  Israel. 

Then  with  the  advance  of  day  the  spell  was 
broken.  With  a  shock,  life  and  the  workaday 
world,  with  all  Its  problems,  again  intruded  upon 
the  girl's  consciousness.  Again  all  of  her  sorrow 
swept  over  her.  Suddenly  she  realized  that  had 
not  the  dormant  knowledge  of  Harrington's  love 
been  hers  the  morning  would  not  have  appeared 
so  beautiful. 

Slowly  she  rode  down  the  narrow  footpath. 
Her  mind  was  beaten  again  by  those  thoughts 
which  had  been  temporarily  put  to  flight. 

''  Oh,  God!  Oh,  God!  "  she  thought  wildly, 
"  is  my  vow  binding?  Was  not  she  who  bore  the 
Christ  a  mother?  Is  there  a  holier  calling  than 
that  of  mother  and  wifehood?" 

Throughout  the  ride  homeward  and  all  the 
morning  thereafter  these  questions  cried  out  to 
the  girl  until  she  decided  to  go  to  Padre  Galvez. 
[209] 


Clemenna'0  Cri0f0 

Not  in  the  guise  of  one  who  seeks  absolution  but 
as  a  friend  who  craves  kindly  advice.  The  decision 
quieted  her  throughout  the  day,  and  enabled  her 
to  meet  and  talk  with  her  grandmother  with  her 
usual  self-possession. 


[210] 


I 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

THAT  afternoon  Clemencia  sought  Padre 
"  Galvez  at  the  mission  house.  She  drove 
there  in  the  little  basket  phaeton  which  was  kept 
for  her  exclusive  use. 

The  good  padre  was  expecting  her,  for  he  was 
one  who  observed  keenly,  and  of  late  he  had  noted 
many  things.  When  the  morning  had  gone  by 
and  Clemencia  had  failed  to  come  to  mass  he  had 
said  to  himself:  "She  is  troubled."  And  the 
nature  of  her  grief  had  not  been  difficult  for  him 
to  guess. 

The  night  before,  at  the  fete,  he  had  observed 

[211] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

Clemencia  and  Barrlngton  leave  the  pavilion 
together.  Their  prolonged  absence  from  among 
the  other  guests  he  had  also  noted  and  he  had 
watched  their  return.  He  had  his  own  reasons 
for  thus  observing  them;  he  felt  that  his  responsi- 
bility toward  the  girl  was  more  than  that  of  an 
ordinary  confessor. 

It  was  soon  after  the  noon  hour  when  Cle- 
mencia arrived  at  the  mission.  She  was  ushered 
into  the  old  padre's  reception-room  and,  standing, 
awaited  his  arrival.  Padre  Galvez,  entering  the 
room  unobserved,  in  silence  watched  her  from 
the  doorway.  Then  he  took  a  step  forward. 
Clemencia,  hearing  him,  turned  swiftly.  She  sank 
to  her  knees  and  cried  out :  "  Help  me,  padre, 
for  I  have  sinned  exceedingly!  " 

The  girl  had  not  meant  to  tell  him  of  her 
trouble  in  these  words,  but  the  priest  had  broken 
in  upon  her  musings  and  unconsciously  the  words 
of  the  confessional  had  leaped  to  her  lips. 

A  gentle  smile  swept  over  the  face  of  the  old 
padre.  He  crossed  the  room  and  stood  beside 
the  girl.  Then  he  lifted  her  from  the  floor  and 
assisted  her  to  a  seat,  seating  himself  beside  her. 
Rapidly  Clemencia  told  him  her  story.  She  did 
[  212  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

not  spare  herself,  and  the  padre  did  not  interrupt 
her  recital.  When  she  ceased  speaking  he  ques- 
tioned her  gravely,  but  there  were  no  words  of 
reproach. 

At  last  the  ordeal  was  over.  It  was  Father 
Galvez  who  broke  the  deep  silence  which  fol- 
lowed. 

"  My  daughter,"  he  said,  "  you  have  not  sinned. 
Your  soul  is  as  white  as  are  the  souls  of  the 
peaceful  nuns." 

"  But,  padre,  did  I  not  swear  an  oath?  Surely 
I  have  sinned  in  forgetting?  " 

"  The  love  of  man  and  woman  is  not  sinful, 
my  child." 

"But  — forme?" 

"  For  you,  too,  daughter.  You  fight  to  dream 
the  dreams  of  a  nun  while  your  rebellious  heart 
beats  refusal.  The  mistake  that  you  make  is  that 
you  see  but  one  goal.  You  are  striving  to  reach 
but  one  end.  Child,"  and  the  voice  of  the  old 
man  grew  strangely  solemn,  "  there  are  more 
roads  than  one  to  heaven.  If  one  for  whom  God 
has  better  use  in  the  world  enters  holy  life,  actu- 
ated by  false  fervor,  that  one  will  find  no  com- 
fort." 

[213] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

'*  Yet  —  I  have  always  felt  that  the  convent 
was  God's  field  for  me !  And  surely  It  Is  the 
greatest  of  all  fields  in  which  to  work!  " 

"  To  have  sons  and  daughters  Is  noble,  too," 
answered  the  priest,  and  straightway  asked: 
"  What  right  have  we  to  question  or  to  say  which 
is  the  greater  field  for  us?  God's  ways  are  not 
our  ways.  Is  the  crown  of  thorns  a  more  glorious 
consummation  than  the  transfiguration?" 

'*  But,  padre,  has  not  my  stay  In  the  convent 
already  unfitted  me  for  the  world?" 

"  No,  the  human  love  you  feel  is  peradventure 
God's  way  of  telling  you  whether  you  should 
enter  it  again.  There  are  many  signs  by  which 
you  should  know  your  true  vocation.  I  have  seen 
no  sign  that  you  were  really  chosen  to  be  a  nun." 

Then  with  a  smile  Father  Galvez  added:  "  It 
Is  not  always  necessary  to  seek  heaven  through 
martyrdom." 

To  Clemencia,  as  she  listened,  reason  whis- 
pered: "Perhaps,  after  all,  you  have  too  nar- 
rowly Interpreted  the  truth." 

In  his  kindly  voice  the  padre  continued:  "  The 
vocation  in  the  Catholic  church  comes  as  an 
Imperative  call;  those  to  whom  it  calls  cannot 

[214] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

make  a  mistake.  The  martyrs  heard  Its  voice  and 
gave  up  their  lives,  but  not  all  of  us  were  meant 
to  be  martyrs." 

Clemencia  felt  that  the  whole  world  was 
rocking  under  her  feet.  What  did  it  mean  —  this 
reasoning  of  the  good  padre?  He  only  echoed 
the  words  which  her  lover  had  spoken!  She 
stepped  to  the  window.  She  felt  stifled.  The 
cold  breath  of  air  which  came  down  from  the 
mountains  was  like  wine  to  her  nostrils,  and  the 
sharp-edged  ridges  of  the  stony  heights  were 
bathed  in  their  soft  haze  of  amethyst.  How 
penetrating,  how  life-giving  the  air  seemed.  Below 
in  the  garden  she  saw  two  cassocked  monks  walk- 
ing to  and  fro.  Her  face  was  troubled  and  the 
priest,  who  was  watching  her,  went  on :  "  Mother 
church  guards  her  souls  well,  but  she  does  not 
guard  them  all  alike.  My  vision  is  clearer  than 
yours,  child,  but  I  feared  that  you  would  never 
realize  this.  I  have  long  known  your  lover,  Cle- 
mencia, and  my  faith  in  him  calls  me  to  champion 
his  cause.  He  will  not  lower  your  standards.  He 
will  not  separate  you  from  your  church.  Only 
another  of  her  sacraments  will  bind  you  to  her, 
and  in  the  world  you  will  upbuild  and  glorify  her." 

[215] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

As  the  girl  listened  her  face  lightened.  She 
felt  as  if  a  great  load  had  been  lifted  from  her 
heart,  and  she  felt  her  rich  blood  flow  freely  again. 
Padre  Galvez's  words  found  echo  in  her  heart. 
Was  it  possible  that  in  her  Valley  of  Renunciation 
she  had  stumbled  into  the  sunlit  trail  of  happiness? 
She  turned  and  caught  the  hand  of  the  priest. 

"  I  am  not  alone,  then,  in  this  great  world!  " 
she  cried.  But  suddenly  a  great  fear  leaped  into 
her  throat  and  she  asked  in  a  whisper:  "  Padre  — 
my  grandmother!     What  of  her?" 

The  priest  pressed  his  hand  wearily  to  his  fore- 
head, but  his  eyes  smiled  confidently  into  hers. 

"  That  will  be  your  greatest  trial  —  and  mine, 
my  child.  But  our  kind  mother,  the  church,  will 
find  a  way  even  to  convince  the  senora.  You  can- 
not turn  back  now!     Be  true  to  yourself!  " 

But  even  as  she  listened  she  gained  strength  to 
refute  his  conviction.  The  courage  of  the  mar- 
tyrs was  hers. 

Well  she  knew  that  she  loved  Arslan,  but  was 
love  sufficient  reason  to  deny  her  grandmother  all 
happiness?    Pale  she  faced  the  padre. 

*'  I  admit  my  love,"  she  groaned  in  despair, 
"  but  I  will  never  betray  her  trust." 

[216] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0x0 

The  padre  argued  long  but  to  no  purpose. 

"  Only  she  can  release  me,"  sighed  Clemencla. 

As  the  old  priest  seated  her  In  her  carriage  he 
drew  the  dark  serape  about  her  shoulders,  for  the 
wind  was  chill,  and  he  sighed  deeply  saying: 

"  Alas,  you  are  wrong,  my  child,  and  I  fear 
peace  will  never  enter  your  heart." 


"^  pr 


[217] 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

THE  day  following  the  fete  Barrlngton  kept 
to  his  room,  anxiously  hoping  that  Clemen- 
cia  would  relent  and  send  for  him.  Brooding 
thus,  the  hours  passed  slowly  for  him.  Late  in 
the  afternoon  he  wandered  over  to  the  Country 
Club,  remembering  that  he  had  made  an  engage- 
ment to  play  bridge  with  Mr.  Helton  and  two 
other  friends.  The  game  was  well  under  way  an 
hour  later  when  Manual  Sanchez  came  into  the 
cardroom. 

The  Spaniard  took  a  quick  survey  and  then 
approached  the  players.  He  had  been  drinking, 
the  fact  of  which  was  plainly  evident.  His  cruel 
little  black  eyes  showed  venom  as  he  greeted  the 
members  of  Harrington's  party. 

The  necessity  of  speaking  to  Sanchez  was  dis- 
agreeable to  all  of  the  men,  but  their  nods  of 
recognition  were  forcibly  polite.  Sanchez  seated 
himself  with  a  word  of  apology.  But  he  soon 
made  manifest  that  he  was  more  interested  in  one 

[218] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

of  the  players  than  In  the  game.  Twice  he 
addressed  Barrington  Insolently,  and  though  the 
latter  returned  cool  replies  It  was  evident  that  the 
Spaniard  was  bent  upon  mischief. 

"  You  have  American  luck,  lieutenant,"  he  said 
during  an  interval  In  the  play,  "  but  don't  forget 
that  luck  at  cards  means  disaster  in  love." 

Barrington  endeavored  to  keep  his  temper. 
One  or  two  further  Interruptions  followed  until 
at  last  the  naval  man's  patience  was  exhausted. 

*'  Senor  Sanchez,"  he  said  finally,  ''  your  Inter- 
est In  our  game  may  be  sincere,  but  your  interrup- 
tions would  be  more  agreeable  if  they  came  later." 

"  I  will  speak  when  It  pleases  me,  sir,  and  not 
at  your  dictation,"  answered  the  Spaniard  angrily. 

"  Here  I  Here!  "  Mr.  Helton  broke  in.  "  For 
heaven's  sake,  Sanchez,  drop  it!  Leave  us  to 
play  our  game  In  peace." 

But  the  Spaniard's  eyes  were  filled  with  rage. 
*'  I  speak  only  to  Lieutenant  Barrington,"  he  per- 
sisted, "  and  I  await  his  reply." 

Barrington  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  Spaniard's  face 
and  answered  calmly:     "For  the  same  reason, 
sir,  I  ask  you  to  be  more  moderate  In  your  lan- 
guage.    It  might  be  misinterpreted." 
[219] 


I. 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

Without  warning  Sanchez  lurched  forward. 

"  There  can  be  no  misinterpretation  of  this!  " 
he  almost  shouted,  raising  his  hand  threateningly. 
But  the  blow  never  fell,  for  Barrington  pushed 
back  his  chair  and,  springing  to  his  feet,  caught 
Sanchez  by  the  throat.  A  mad,  unreasoning  fury 
possessed  the  American.  For  a  moment  the 
strength  of  a  giant  was  his.  As  he  stood  gripping 
his  enemy  in  a  grasp  of  iron  it  seemed  that 
Sanchez  was  doomed. 

The  controversy  had  come  about  so  quickly  that 
the  three  men  at  the  table  were  for  the  moment 
paralyzed  with  amazement.  Fortunately  for 
Sanchez,  their  inaction  was  brief.  Recovering 
themselves,  they  broke  Barrington's  hold  on  his 
foe,  but  not  before  the  Spaniard  had  been  choked 
almost  breathless  and  had  received  a  terrible  beat- 
ing. 

It  was  several  minutes  before  Sanchez  breathed 
freely  again,  but  the  young  officer  regained  com- 
posure almost  immediately.  He  stood  silent  for 
a  little  space  while  Sanchez  glared  at  him  with 
cold  fury.     Then  he  said: 

"  I  regret  this  occurrence  more  than  I  can 
express.  I  am  your  guest,  Mr.  Helton,  and  if  in 
[  220  ] 


Clemencfa'0  €11010 

any  way  I  can  make  reparation  I  shall  be  pleased 
to  do  so.  But,"  and  turning  to  Sanchez  he  added, 
"  you,  sir,  did  not  get  half  that  you  deserve." 

"  This  cannot  end  our  quarrel,  Lieutenant  Har- 
rington! "  snarled  the  other. 

"  As  you  please.  But  will  you  have  the  good- 
ness to  choose  a  more  fitting  place  for  our  next 
encounter?  " 

"  Believe  me,"  snarled  Sanchez,  "  it  will  be  a 
fitting  place  and  the  occasion  as  soon  as  I  can 
make  it." 

"  I  am  entirely  at  your  service,  sir." 

''  You  shall  hear  from  me,"  Sanchez  finished. 
He  strode  out  of  the  cardroom  and  a  moment 
later  Harrington  and  his  companions  saw  the 
man's  long,  low  automobile  dash  away  down  the 
road  that  ran  toward  the  town. 

Despite  her  determination  to  keep  the  vow 
made  to  her  grandmother,  Clemencia's  heart  was 
bowed  with  grief  and  bitterness,  following  her 
interview  with  the  Padre  Galvez.  The  fact  that 
she  was  doing  her  duty  was  poor  consolation  to 
her  stricken  heart.  She  determined  that  she  would 
speak  to  her  grandmother  and  beg  her  to  hasten 
her  return  to  the  convent. 

[221] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

She  was  determined  that  she  would  not  see  Bar- 
rington  again.  Indeed,  she  felt  that  she  dared 
not  trust  herself  with  him. 

However,  fired  as  she  was  with  the  belief  that 
she  had  renounced  happiness  forever,  it  was  with 
a  feeling  of  relief  that  Clemencia  received  a  mes- 
sage that  the  senora  was  indisposed  and  had 
taken  to  her  bed  with  a  severe  headache. 

Clemencia  sought  the  patio  and  sank  down  into 
one  of  the  soft  chairs.  She  was  utterly  weary  in 
body  and  soul.  It  was  there,  in  the  violet  dusk  of 
a  California  evening,  that  Manuel  Sanchez  found 
her  two  hours  after  he  had  left  the  Country  Club. 

''  Clemencia,  I  have  been  called  suddenly  away 
and  must  leave  for  San  Francisco  early  tomorrow 
morning.  I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  accompany 
me  on  the  ride  you  promised." 

"Not  tonight,"  said  Clemencia;  "1  am  too 
tired." 

"  Sweet  cousin,  I  leave  tomorrow.  Besides," 
he  added  suavely,  *'  a  horseback  ride  will  rest 
your  nerves." 

Though  she  knew  he  spoke  the  truth,  Clemencia 
demurred. 

*'  Another  time  would  suit  me  better,"  she 
[  222  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

began,  but  Manuel  broke  in  with :  "  But  I  have 
something  of  great  importance  to  tell  you.  It  will 
not  wait." 

'*  To  what  purpose  are  our  talks?"  answered 
the  girl. 

"  Clemencia,"  he  began  persuasively,  "  your 
conscience  may  be  at  rest  tonight,  for  I  have 
promised  that  I  shall  not  discuss  the  forbidden 
topic  of  my  love  for  you." 

Noting  that  she  still  hesitated,  he  added:  "  A 
promise  is  a  promise,  cousin.  The  horses  already 
await  us." 

Reluctantly  the  girl  stood,  but  again  she  hesi- 
tated. 

"  Grandmamma  is  asleep.  How  shall  I  tell 
her?  "  she  asked. 

"  Tell  her  not  at  all,"  he  answered  quickly. 

"  But  I  never  go  out  without  asking  her  con- 
sent.    She  would  worry." 

''What,  in  her  sleep?"  he  laughed.  "Spare 
her  the  knowledge,  Clemencia  —  this  time  she 
cannot  worry." 


[223] 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

UNDER  her  cousin's  importunity,  Clemencia 
yielded  and  went  to  her  room  to  don  her 
riding  clothes.  When  she  returned  a  few  minutes 
later  they  silently  left  the  house  and  walked  to  the 
spot  where  Manuel  had  left  the  horses.  As  he 
assisted  the  girl  to  mount  Sanchez  smiled  broadly. 

"  I  am  happy  that  you  go  with  me,"  he  said. 

"Where  shall  we  ride?"  she  asked  abruptly. 

"  I  know  of  a  short  cut  to  the  range  —  shall 
we  try  that?  "  he  questioned. 

"  Lead,  I  will  follow,"  Clemencia  answered. 

Out  through  the  moonlight  they  rode,  while 
Clemencia,  with  a  sigh,  became  absorbed  in  her 
own  thoughts.  For  a  time  neither  spoke.  Having 
persuaded  Clemencia  to  accompany  him,  Sanchez 
seemed  to  be  content.  He  led  the  way  along  the 
narrow  path  that  he  had  chosen.  The  flickering 
light  of  the  moon  marked  queer  patterns  on  the 
ground. 

Presently  where  the  path  crossed  a  clearing  It 
[224] 


Cletnenria'0  Cri0i0 

grew  wider.  Clemencia  rode  alongside  her  coni- 
panion,  but,  wrapped  in  her  own  thoughts,  she 
paid  no  heed  to  him  as  he  half  turned  and  gazed 
upon  her  with  the  fire  of  desire  in  his  eyes,  a  fire 
that  burned  more  brightly,  perhaps,  because  she 
upon  whom  it  was  focused  had  always  been  so 
unattainable.  But  tonight  one  observing  closely 
might  have  caught  a  gleam  of  triumph  in  the 
glance. 

Clemencia  roused  herself  to  find  Manuel's  gaze 
upon  her.  ''  What  a  girl  you  are,  Clemencia ! 
With  all  your  wisdom  you  are  but  a  girl !  "  he 
laughed  in  answer  to  her  look. 

*'  What  was  the  important  thing  you  wished  to 
tell  me?"  she  asked  shortly. 

"  Oh,  there  is  a  certain  spot  upon  which  my 
fancy  has  fixed,  and  it  is  there,  and  there  only,  that 
I  dare  divulge  my  secret,"  replied  Sanchez  gayly. 

"  How  mysterious  you  are  tonight,"  she 
answered,  gazing  at  him  in  surprise.  ''  I  have 
never  seen  you  in  this  temper  before.  Sir  Knight 
of  the  Cloaked  Moods,"  she  added,  trying  to 
meet  his  jesting  mood. 

"  I  have  reached  the  turning  point  in  my  life," 
the  other  declared  oracularly. 
[225  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

"May  it  inspire  you  to  great  deeds  I"  she 
answered. 

"  I  am  planning  the  greatest  of  them  all,"  he 
declared  subtly. 

"  Manuel,"  she  said,  and  halted  her  horse,  "  we 
really  ought  to  turn  back." 

'*  Just  a  little  beyond,"  he  urged  playfully. 
"  We  are  very  near  now!  " 

"  But  we  have  gone  too  far  already." 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  "  we  will  dismount  here, 
and  while  the  horses  rest  I  will  show  you  the  won- 
derful spot  which  I  have  chosen  to  be  the  scene 
of  my  disclosure." 

Clemencia  slipped  to  the  ground  and  walked  in 
short  turns  while  Manuel  tethered  the  horses. 
When  he  rejoined  her  she  had  paused  in  a  patch 
of  moonlight. 

"  Is  this  not  enchanting?  "  he  began,  and,  truth 
to  tell,  the  scene  about  them  was  wonderfully 
beautiful. 

The  man  and  girl  stood  on  a  little  knoll  over- 
looking a  narrow  valley.  A  few  yards  toward  the 
valley,  and  to  the  right  of  the  trail  along  which 
they  had  ridden,  was  perched  a  little  log  cabin 
which  the  silvery  light  of  the  moon,  filtering 
[  226] 


f 


Clemencfa'0  Cri0i0 

between  the  wide  branches  of  the  trees,  had  trans- 
formed Into  a  veritable  gnome  palace. 

The  thick  masses  of  spruce  and  pine,  the  sweep 
of  rising  slopes,  as  they  lifted  toward  the  distant 
peaks,  the  tiny  white  waterfall  which  leaped  foam- 
ing over  a  fir-framed  cliff  and  then  danced  twin- 
kling away  —  all  these  steeped  in  the  mellow 
moonlight  made  thought  of  fairyland  not  pre- 
posterous. 

The  girl  was  thrilled  by  the  beauty  about  her. 
''  How  wonderful  it  is !  "  she  exclaimed  breath- 
lessly. 

"  Then  we  must  often  come  here  together,"  he 
said  slowly. 

"  It  is  strange  that  in  all  my  rides  I  have  never 
discovered  this  spot,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  And  never  would,"  answered  her  cousin 
gayly.  "  It  is  my  find  —  quite  off  the  beaten 
track,  too !  " 

"And  now  for  the  mysterious  disclosure!" 
exclaimed  Clemencia,  who  for  all  her  interest  in 
the  scene  still  remembered  that  she  must  return 
home  soon. 

"  It  is  in  the  cabin  that  the  secret  must  be  told," 
he  said,  leading  the  way  down  toward  the  hut. 
[227] 


Clemencja'0  Cn0i0 

He  threw  open  the  door  and  led  the  way  inside. 
Striking  a  match  he  lit  a  lamp,  swinging  from  the 
ceiling,  and  stood  aside  to  let  her  pass.  The  cabin 
was  rudely  furnished  with  a  table  and  a  cot,  but 
there  were  no  signs  of  recent  occupancy.  Only 
a  heavy  quilt  was  thrown  over  the  cot,  and  dust 
lay  thick  on  the  table. 

"Why  should  one  build  out  here?"  she  said, 
looking  curiously  about  her. 

"  Simply  to  be  alone  with  nature,  I  suppose,"  he 
answered.  Seemingly  forgetting  the  mission  upon 
which  they  had  come  to  the  cabin,  she  turned  to  go. 

*'  Wait  a  moment,  Clemencia,"  said  her  com- 
panion hastily.  ''  In  the  quiet  —  solemn  quiet  — 
of  this  hut  I  wish  you  to  hear  what  I  have  to 
say." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  remember!  But  how  dramatic! 
Does  it  make  the  secret  more  important,  telling  it 
here?"  answered  the  girl. 

"  The  surrounding  will  impress  it  better  upon 
your  memory,"  he  replied  dryly. 

"  Well,  hurry,"  she  said.  "  My  curiosity  is 
aroused." 

Sanchez  gazed  upon  her  in  silence,  as  if  afraid 
to  begin  speaking.  Now  that  he  had  brought  her 
[  228  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

to  this  secluded  spot  her  unsuspecting  inner  sense 
robbed  him  of  words. 

*'  Well,  Manuel,"  a  little  impatiently,  "  I  am 
waiting." 

He  nerved  himself.  ''  Clemencia,  what  I  have 
to  say  may  not  be  agreeable  to  you.  Have  you 
thought  of  that?  " 

She  was  startled  and  answered  hastily:  "  But 
you  promised  to  be  pleasant." 

Sanchez  leaned  across  the  little  table  at  which 
they  had  seated  themselves.  "  I  watched  you  last 
night  dancing  with  Lieutenant  Harrington,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  your  interest  In  him  decidedly 
unfits  you  for  the  veil." 

Clemencia  seemed  thunderstruck  by  his  words. 

"  How  dare  you  say  that  to  me !  "  she  blazed  at 
him. 

"  Surely  you  need  not  ask,"  he  answered.  His 
voice  held  an  insinuating  tone. 

She  spoke  furiously:  "You  have  no  right  to 
talk  to  me  in  this  manner!  "  The  girl  faced  her 
cousin  In  astonishment  and  wrath.  His  manner 
was  new  to  her.  The  words,  of  course,  were 
nothing,  but  the  tone  In  which  they  were  uttered 
carried  a  thinly  veiled  insult.  Vaguely  she  under- 
[229] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

stood  that  Manuel  sought  to  call  her  to  account, 
and  she  resented  the  attempt.  Her  eyes  grew  cold 
and  hard. 

*' Be  careful,  Manuel;  there  are  limits  to  my 
patience,"  warned  Clemencia. 

The  man  was  unabashed,  and  an  insolent  look 
had  leaped  into  his  eyes  as  he  spoke.  Suddenly 
she  felt  a  chill.  The  expression  made  her  shud- 
der. 

Never  before  had  Clemencia  feared  her  cousin, 
but  something  very  like  fear  clutched  her  throat. 
She  essayed  calmness  and  said:  "  Come,  Manuel, 
we  are  not  children  to  stand  here  quarreling.  The 
hour  is  late  and  we  must  return." 

"  Not  so  fast,  my  pretty  cousin.  I  have  not  half 
finished  what  I  came  to  say." 

The  girl  turned  toward  the  door,  but  he  barred 
the  way.  Crimson  color  flooded  Clemencia's 
cheeks.  That  he  had  attempted  to  call  her  to 
account  seemed  bad  enough;  that  he  should  seek 
to  dictate  to  her  was  to  the  girl  almost  inconceiv- 
able, but  she  saw  that  he  was  greatly  excited. 

"  I  must  temporize  with  him,"  she  thought 
swiftly,  and  said:  "The  moon  is  high,  Manuel. 
I  wish  to  go  home." 

[  230] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

"  And  I  say  you  shall  not!  "  he  replied,  his  voice 
carrying  a  note  of  menacing  authority.  There 
was  no  mistaking  his  tone  now.  Her  heart 
seemed  suddenly  wrapped  in  ice. 

*'  Are  you  insane?  "  she  asked,  her  voice  shak< 
ing  with  terror. 

"  Mad  with  love  for  you!  "  he  exclaimed  pas- 
sionately. 

Then  she  knew  that  she  was  not  mistaken.  It 
was  evil  that  she  had  seen  in  his  eye.  Strangely 
enough,  the  knowledge  made  her  less  afraid.  She 
understood  now  how  she  must  deal  with  him.  It 
must  be  with  cold  contempt;  that  had  always 
brought  him  to  his  senses. 

"  Well,  my  chivalrous  and  courtly  cousin,"  she 
said,  *'  do  you  not  think  we  can  talk  better  in  the 
open?    It  is  stifling  in  here." 

Her  words  were  edged. 

For  a  moment  Sanchez  was  misled  by  her 
apparent  calm;  nor  did  he  at  once  catch  her  sar- 
casm. Her  manner  cooled  his  ardor.  He  was 
nonplussed,  but  with  the  movement  she  made 
toward  the  door  his  insolence  returned.  With  an 
ugly  laugh  he  said:  *'  I  prefer  to  talk  to  you 
in  the  seclusion  of  this  cabin." 

[231  ] 


Clemencia'0  Crisis 

Instinct  warned  her  to  ignore  his  threats.  She 
must  not  let  him  know  her  terror. 

*'  How  strangely  you  talk !  "  she  said,  maintain- 
ing her  enforced  calm.  "  Why  should  I  want  to 
escape  you,  my  cousin,  my  protector?  " 

"  Drop  that!  I  have  forgotten  both  of  those 
roles  tonight!  "  he  snarled. 

Praying  that  he  would  not  hear  the  beating  of 
her  heart,  she  replied:  "  Well,  if  you  prefer  we 
will  talk  here." 

"  That  is  better,"  he  growled. 


[232  ] 


CHAPTER  XL 

"TT7ELL,"  she  began  nonchalantly,  "be 
▼  V  quick,  for  I  shall  not  stay  here  much 
longer."  Her  words  and  manner  were  ill  chosen 
and  stung  the  man  to  fury. 

He  glared  at  her  angrily,  exclaiming:  "  That 
is  just  what  you  will  do !  You  will  stay  here  until 
morning!  " 

Clemencia  came  of  a  spirited  race  and  anger 
ran  riot  in  her  as  she  listened  to  this  base  threat. 
She  leaped  to  her  feet,  in  a  storm  of  rebellion. 

[233  ] 


Clemenna'0  Cri0i0 

"  How  dare  you  menace  me?  "  she  said. 

Sanchez  stood,  also.  He  held  out  his  hands 
in  expostulatory  gesture,  as  if  he  would  calm  her, 
but  his  small,  black  eyes  glittered  with  a  horrible 
light  as  he  said: 

"  You  are  in  my  power."  He  stepped  forward 
swiftly  and  gripped  both  of  her  arms.  Clemen- 
cia's  face  was  like  marble  as  she  listened  to  his 
terrible  words.  She  tried  to  shake  off  his  grip. 
"  You  coward,  you  lied  to  bring  me  here." 

"  I  would  do  more  than  lie  to  win  you." 

Suddenly  the  man  clutched  her  to  his  breast  and 
gazed  greedily  down  upon  her,  his  eyes  hot  with 
passion.  She  nerved  herself  to  reason  with  him 
again,  while  she  fought  to  be  free. 

"  Manuel,  have  you  weighed  the  risk  of  detain- 
ing me?  My  grandmother's  wrath,  should  she 
learn  of  this,  will  be  visited  upon  you  in  a  ter- 
rible fashion." 

"  I  have  thought  of  that,  but  after  tonight  she 
will  be  glad  to  consent  to  our  marriage:  she  is 
proud,  you  know."     He  laughed  harshly. 

Clemencia  cried  out  in  rage:  "  Does  my  hate 
count  for  nothing?  " 

"  I  fear  neither  God,  man,  nor  the  devil  to- 

[234] 


Clemenria'0  Crisis 

night,  with  you  in  my  arms !  "  He  leaned  down 
to  kiss  her.     She  screamed  aloud  twice. 

Swiftly  Sanchez  slipped  his  hand  over  her 
mouth.  She  jerked  it  away  and  again  sent  her 
voice  through  the  quiet  night. 

Suddenly  a  great  new  strength  seemed  to  be 
hers.  She  began  fighting  the  man  like  a  tigress. 
After  a  short,  sharp  struggle  she  managed  to  free 
herself.  Sanchez,  taken  completely  by  surprise 
at  the  girl's  furious  onslaught,  had  fallen  back 
under  the  quick  rain  of  her  blows. 

Clemencia  was  no  weakling.  The  blows  with 
which  she  struck  her  cousin  were  not  light  ones. 

For  a  time  Sanchez  was  too  taken  aback  to 
offer  resistance,  but  after  Clemencia  had  struck 
him  several  times  stingingly  in  the  face  he  reached 
out  and  grasped  her  arms  with  a  grip  of  iron  just 
above  her  elbows.  Then  again  he  crushed  her  to 
his  breast,  where  she  lay  panting  and  helpless. 

"  What  claws  you  have.  When  will  you  learn 
wisdom?  " 

Outside  they  heard  the  sound  of  running  feet. 
Sanchez  lifted  his  head  and  listened.  He  was 
fronting  the  one  curtainless  window  of  the  cabin. 
What  he  saw  framed  therein  caused  his  face  to 

[235  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

grow  gray.  His  arms  fell  limply  from  about  the 
girl  and  in  a  flash  Clemencia  had  darted  out 
through  the  open  door.  She  ran  swiftly  toward 
the  spot  where  they  had  left  the  horses.  In  her 
excitement  she  did  not  pause  to  note  the  cause  of 
her  deliverance.  That  help  had  come  was  enough 
for  her. 

Clemencia  a  moment  later  flung  herself  Into 
the  saddle  and  urged  her  horse  homeward  at  a 
swift  gallop.  It  was  not  until  she  was  well  on 
her  way  that  she  took  time  to  feel  surprise  that 
she  had  not  been  followed. 

The  swift  animal  soon  bore  her  to  the  safety 
of  the  ranch.  She  slid  from  the  horse's  back, 
slapped  its  hind  quarters  to  start  It  on  Its  way 
home,  and  hurried  Into  the  house. 


[236] 


^^v,?, 


CHAPTER  XLI 


SENORA  CASTELLANOS  awakened  early 
the  next  morning,  yet  almost  before  she  had 
finished  her  small  cup  of  black  coffee  with  which 
she  invariably  began  the  day  she  was  surprised  by 
a  visit  from  Padre  Galvez.  As  early  as  the  hour 
was,  the  priest  had  found  it  difficult  to  wait  even 
so  long.  He  had  spent  a  restless  night,  during 
which  he  decided  that  upon  him  devolved  the  task 
of  convincing  the  senora  that  in  holding  her  grand- 

[  237  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

daughter  to  the  letter  of  the  childish  vow  she  was 
committing  a  sin. 

The  old  priest  was  gentle  by  nature,  but  in  that 
interview  no  one  would  have  suspected  it. 

The  senora  was  quite  unnerved  by  what  he  said 
to  her.  He  expressed  his  thought  plainly  and  he 
did  not  mince  words.  The  time  had  come,  he  felt, 
when  Clemencia's  life's  happiness  was  at  stake, 
and  he  had  determined  that  the  senora's  narrow 
view  of  life  should  not  wreck  her  granddaughter's 
happiness. 

Long  these  two  old  people  talked  together,  and 
the  battle  between  them  was  a  terrible  one,  for 
though  the  Padre  Galvez  was  an  old  man  he  was 
fighting  under  the  banner  of  youth,  and  the  bat- 
tle between  youth  and  age  is  always  terrible. 

It  is  such  an  unequal  contest !  Old  age  is  always 
so  helpless  I 

The  senora  received  her  guest  on  the  wide 
veranda  of  her  home.  Clemencia,  who  under  the 
strain  and  excitement  of  the  night  before  had 
lain  long  awake,  had  not  yet  arisen. 

The  padre  and  his  hostess  were  seated  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  long,  deeply  shaded  porch. 

Father  Galvez,  after  the  first  greetings,  plunged 

[238] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

almost  immediately  into  the  middle  of  his  sub- 
ject. His  assurance  that  he  spoke  with  the  dele- 
gated voice  of  God  gave  him  courage. 

"  You  will  blacken  your  soul  forever  if  you  hold 
Clemencia  to  her  promise,  and  if  you  do  not 
release  her  she  will  send  her  lover  away  and  keep 
her  oath  to  you.  Look  to  yourself  that  you  do 
not  crush  the  daughter  as  you  did  the  mother  by 
your  unholy  interference." 

Cruel  though  the  words  of  the  priest  seemed, 
he  felt  that  nothing  less  than  rank  cruelty  would 
draw  the  veil  of  error  from  before  the  eyes  of 
the  old  woman  to  whom  he  talked. 

Senora  Castellanos,  though  she  fought  hard, 
realized  the  truth  of  the  priest's  words  and  was 
crushed  by  them.  For  weeks  she  had  faced  the 
inevitable,  and  though  her  heart  was  rent  by  the 
breaking  up  of  all  her  well-laid  plans  her  master- 
ful spirit  recognized  defeat.  For  days  the  torture 
of  uncertainty  had  been  hers.  Had  she  not  wit- 
nessed the  life's  happiness  of  Clemencia's  mother 
wrecked  by  one  of  these  same  Americans?  She 
trembled  at  the  priest's  denunciations. 

The  priest  read  the  woman's  mind  and  he 
hastened  to  take  advantage  of  her  indecision. 

[239] 


Clemenna'0  Crisis! 

''  See  that  you  make  amends  to  the  daughter 
for  the  injustice  to  the  mother,"  he  said.  The 
words  were  brutitl,  but  the  tone  was  kindly.  And 
so  the  outcome  of  it  all  was  that  when  the  senora 
arose  to  bid  Father  Galvez  good-bye  she  had 
been  conquered. 

"  The  very  demons  themselves  are  set  against 
me,  I  think,"  she  said  wearily,  "  and  though  I 
know  it  is  enchantment  that  has  won  Clemencia 
from  my  cherished  hopes  I  will  release  her  from 
her  vow." 

To  the  padre  the  senora  was  more  terrible  in 
her  sudden  meekness  than  she  had  ever  been  in 
her  implacable  determination.  Gazing  upon  her 
saddened  face  his  eyes  grew  misty  and  he  said 
gently : 

"  Oh,  my  daughter,  though  your  soul  is  troubled 
now  with  the  sacrifice  you  are  making,  your  recom- 
pense will  be  greater  than  you  guess." 

To  this  Senora  Castellanos  answered  suddenly, 
with  all  her  old  proud  bitterness  of  manner: 
"  When  I  have  talked  with  Clemencia  send  Lieu- 
tenant Barrington  to  me." 


[  240] 


CHAPTER  XLII 

AN  hour  later  Clemencia  answered  her  grand- 
-  mother's  summons.  Her  experience  of  the 
night  before  had  been  a  terrible  one.  She  bore 
the  marks  of  the  strain  in  her  white  face.  She 
had  determined  to  open  her  heart  to  her  grand- 
mother and  to  tell  her  the  story  not  only  of 
Sanchez  but  of  her  struggles  against  the  love  that 
had  come  to  her  for  Barrington. 

Then  she  would  tell  her  grandmother  that  she 
was  still  prepared  to  abide  by  the  elder  woman's 
decision.  She  would  send  Arslan  Barrington 
away  and  take  the  veil  in  accordance  with  the 
terms  of  her  vow.  But  the  elder  woman's  agita- 
tion, plainly  manifest,  was  disconcerting  to  the 
girl,  and  for  the  moment  she  thought  it  best  to 
keep  her  counsel.  Of  late  her  grandmother  had 
worn  a  strained  look  that  had  caused  Clemencia 
to  wonder  occasionally  if  that  strong  virility  was 
lessening. 

This  thought  touched  Clemencia  with  sadness, 

[241] 


Clemenna'0  Cri0i0 

for  with  all  the  elder  woman's  asperity  of  manner, 
her  sternness  and  her  cynicism,  the  girl  knew  that 
she,  Clemencia,  was  her  dearest  thought  in  life. 
Their  natures  were  so  dissimilar  that  any  show  of 
affection  between  them  was  rare,  but  Clemencia 
appreciated  the  great  affection  —  though  mistaken 
in  its  plans  for  her  —  that  had  ruled  the  senora. 

She  had,  too,  a  tenderness  toward  the  proud 
and  weary  old  soul  that  was  suffering  in  its  last 
days  of  loneliness,  shutting  itself  off  in  seclusion 
and  holding  aloof  from  the  world  that  would  have 
softened  and  given  moments  of  forgetfulness,  if 
not  continued  peace.  * 

The  senora  was  seated  in  the  same  chair  from 
which  she  had  talked  to  Father  Galvez  and  the 
girl  sat  before  her  on  the  wide  railing  of  the  porch. 

"  Clemencia,"  began  the  elder  woman,  "  the 
padre  has  been  with  me  and  he  crucified  my  heart 
with  his  words.    But  that  hour  has  passed." 

Briefly  the  senora  told  her  granddaughter  that 
she  had  wished  to  hear  Clemencia's  story  and 
then  added:  "  I  have  not  the  strength  to  hear  it 
now."  She  told  the  girl  of  her  interview  with 
Padre  Galvez.  In  closing  her  talk  she  said: 
"  My  beloved,  the  good  padre  tells  me  that  I  have 

[  242] 


Clemenxia'0  Cri0i0 

been  cruel  to  you  —  you  who  are  dearer  to  me 
than  anything  else  In  the  world.  I  thought  I  was 
acting  for  the  best,  but,  alas,  I  see  differently  now, 
and  all  my  plans  have  gone  astray.  No  one  can 
live  another's  life.  You  are  free  from  your  vow 
to  me.'* 

Speechless  with  happiness  Clemencia  slid  from 
her  seat  on  the  porch  railing.  She  bent  swiftly 
down  and  kissed  her  grandmother  with  a  tender- 
ness that  had  in  it  something  of  sorrow.  The  girl 
realized  that  her  grandmother  in  absolving  her 
from  her  vow  was  relinquishing  a  dearest  hope. 

The  senora  passed  her  hand  lovingly  across  the 
girl's  hair.  "  And  now  leave  me,  my  child,  for  I 
feel  sadly  the  need  of  rest." 

Public  interest  was  still  at  fever  heat  concern- 
ing the  power-house  murders  when  the  newspapers 
came  out  with  the  declaration  that  the  name  of 
the  real  culprit,  *'  the  man  higher  up,"  would  be 
revealed  in  a  short  time  as  the  result  of  important 
discoveries  recently  made  by  detectives  working 
on  the  case.  According  to  the  accounts,  the  guilty 
man  was  a  member  of  the  inmost  exclusive  circle 
of  Santa  Barbara  society.     The  accounts  pointed 

[  243  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

out  that  success  in  tracking  down  the  criminal 
might  be  attributed  to  Mr.  Helton,  who  had 
spared  neither  money  or  personal  effort  toward 
gaining  the  end  sought. 

The  published  accounts  had  keyed  local  inter- 
est up  to  the  highest  point  and  the  whole  town 
awaited  developments  with  bated  expectancy. 

These  power-house  murders  had  deeply  stirred 
quiet  Santa  Barbara.  That  in  the  midst  of  the 
peaceful  town  terrible  death  should  be  dealt  out  — 
these  horrible  deaths  for  no  apparent  reason 
—  had  terrorized  the  good  citizens  who  natu- 
rally placed  blame  on  the  strikers,  whom  they 
believed  took  this  means  of  retaliation. 

But  there  were  certain  phases  of  the  case  which 
had  been  at  first  absolutely  baffling  to  those  who 
sought  to  clear  up  the  mystery. 

The  diabolical  ingenuity  with  which  the  trap 
had  been  set  showed  that  he  who  was  responsible 
for  the  crime  possessed,  at  least,  a  working  knowl- 
edge of  electricity. 

Each  of  the  oiling  stands  had  been  connected 
with  the  turbine  by  wires  secreted  under  the  floor. 
These  wires  had  been  governed  by  a  time  clock 
placed  in  the  alleyway  which  ran  the  length  of  the 

[244] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

power-house  on  one  side.  The  cunning  manner  in 
which  the  arrangement  had  been  made  had  puz- 
zled detectives  even  after  the  warnings  had  been 
issued. 

Publication  of  the  details  of  the  scheme  follow- 
ing their  disclosure  had  aroused  anger  in  the  quiet 
little  city. 

Early  one  morning  on  the  day  after  the  news- 
papers had  made  their  sensational  declarations 
Mr.  Helton  called  at  Harrington's  rooms  before 
the  latter  had  risen  for  the  day.  Helton  aroused 
his  friend  from  sleep  and  waited  while  the  naval 
man  was  at  his  bath. 

When  Harrington  appeared  ready  to  receive 
his  guest  Helton  said:  "  Harrington,  the  guilty 
man  in  the  short-circuit  case  has  been  identified. 
I  have  facts  in  my  possession  which  will  enable 
me  to  have  him  arrested  today.  My  God,  you 
would  never  guess  who  it  is !  " 

"I  am  heartily  glad,"  answered  Harrington. 
Then  an  expression  on  Helton's  face  caused  the 
young  officer  to  add:  "  Surely  you  are  not  hesi- 
tating to  publish  the  criminal !  " 

'*  Yes,  exactly  that,"  said  Helton. 

"Who  is  the  guilty  man?"  cried  Harrington. 

[  245  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cn0i0 

''  Manuel  Sanchez!  " 

"My  God!"  exclaimed  Barrlngton.  Helton 
began  speaking  swiftly  to  his  friend.  "  I  wish  you 
to  accompany  me  to  Senor  Sanchez's  rooms  that 
we  may  make  It  possible  for  him  to  be  quietly 
arrested  and  removed  from  the  city  under  guard 
to  avoid  mob  violence." 

"  Personally  I  am  not  favorably  Impressed  by 
Senor  Sanchez.     Of  this  you  are  well  aware." 

"  No  more  am  I.  However,  I  thought  for 
Clemencia's  sake  and  for  the  sake  of  Senora  Cas- 
tellanos  we  would  give  him  a  chance.  If  he  is 
arrested  today  with  those  poor  fellows  scarcely 
cold  in  their  graves  it  will  go  hard  with  him," 
exclaimed  Helton. 

"  A  rope  or  a  bullet  would  probably  be  his 
reward,"  answered  Harrington. 

"  Yes,  the  people  are  at  white  heat;  they  would 
not  stop  to  reason.  A  maddened  crowd  usually 
hangs  a  man  first  and  gives  him  a  trial  afterward." 

"  But  you  say  the  men  are  here  for  his 
arrest?"  asked  Harrington. 

"  Yes,  but  we  could  evade  them.  I  have  done 
so  much  toward  tracing  the  man  that  the  police 
would  never  suspect  me  of  leniency.     This  will 

[246] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

allow  me  time  to  warn  him  and  give  him  time  to 
get  away  from  Santa  Barbara." 

"  You  will  send  him  under  guard,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Certainly,  but  I  want  you  to  accompany  me 
to  his  room  and  be  with  me  when  I  offer  him  his 
chance.     Won't  you  come  with  me?  " 

"  But  our  quarrel  —  our  mutual  dislike,  these 
would  make  me  an  unwelcome  guest,"  answered 
Barrlngton. 

"  Even  so,  are  we  not  doing  the  man  a  good 
turn  In  giving  him  a  chance  to  defend  himself?  " 

After  brief  parley  Barrlngton  consented  to  go 
with  Mr.  Helton.  They  walked  swiftly  toward 
the  Spaniard's  home. 

Barrington's  consideration  of  Helton's  revela- 
tions to  him  was  made  with  the  knowledge  of  these 
things  In  his  mind.  He  also  knew  that  Manuel 
Sanchez,  as  well  as  the  senora,  was  heavily  Inter- 
ested in  the  power-house  property.  Consequently 
he  was  the  more  mystified  as  to  what  purpose 
could  have  actuated  the  Spaniard. 

It  took  the  two  men  but  a  short  time  to  reach 
Sanchez's  rooms.  From  the  Spaniard's  valet  the 
two  visitors  learned  that  his  master  had  not  been 
at  home  since  the  day  before. 

[  247  ] 


Clemenna'0  €n0i0 

Helton  and  Harrington  called  at  once  at  San- 
chez's office.  They  only  found  Miss  Morro  there. 
She  appeared  pale  but  composed. 

Almost  as  soon  as  Barrlngton  and  his  friend 
entered  the  room  she  rose  from  her  seat  at  the 
desk  and  asked:  "Have  you  come  to  inquire 
about  the  discrepancies  in  Senor  Sanchez's  ac- 
counts with  the  senora?  " 

The  two  men  were  amazed  and  answered  in 
the  negative.  They  learned  from  the  girl  that  on 
the  evening  before,  the  Senora  Castellanos  had 
quite  accidentally  discovered  a  heavy  deficit  in  her 
accounts. 

After  listening  to  the  girl's  story  Harrington 
turned  to  Mr.  Helton  and  said:  "Pardon  me, 
Mr.  Helton,  but  I  would  like  to  speak  alone  to 
this  young  woman." 

"  Certainly,"  answered  the  other.  Helton  went 
into  an  adjoining  office  and  closed  the  door  behind 
him. 

As  soon  as  they  were  alone  Barrlngton  began 
speaking  to  the  girl:  "  Miss  Morro,  the  deficit 
In  the  senora's  accounts  was  known  to  you  before, 
and  I  now  know  you  referred  to  them  when  you 
spoke  of  your  employer's  guilt  to  me." 

[248] 


I 


Clemenaa'0  Cri0i0 

The  girl  did  not  reply. 

Barrington  waited  for  a  moment  and  then,  see- 
ing that  she  did  not  Intend  answering,  he  went 
on:  *'  Is  this  the  only  transaction  of  which  you 
have  knowledge?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  stammered. 

"  There  is  nothing  else?  " 

"  Nothing  else,"  she  answered  defiantly. 

"You  feared  nothing  else?"  Sanchez's  secre- 
tary gazed  at  Barrington  with  frightened  eyes,  but 
she  did  not  speak.  He  waited  a  moment  and  said : 
"  Will  you  compel  me  to  tell  what  has  passed 
between  us  or  will  you  reveal  all  you  know?  " 

"  I  have  nothing  to  tell,"  she  said  sullenly. 

"  Senorita,  did  your  threat  to  betray  Senor 
Sanchez  Involve  no  other  crime?  " 

"Why  do  you  ask  me  such  questions?"  said 
the  girl. 

"You  know  everything!"  Barrington  said 
sternly,  as  he  suddenly  leaned  close  to  her.  "  You 
even  know  where  Sanchez  is  hiding." 

"  Senor  Barrington,"  she  stammered,  her  agita- 
tion betraying  her  alarm. 

"  Come,  Miss  Morro,  you  know  where  he  is 
hidden !     You  will  have  to  tell  us !  " 

[  249  ] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

But  despite  his  firm  belief  that  she  knew  all, 
Barrlngton  got  no  satisfaction  from  his  Interview 
with  Miss  Morro,  and  he  was  soon  convinced  that 
he  would  have  to  employ  unusual  tactics  to  ascer- 
tain the  truth  from  her. 

A  moment  later  Barrlngton  and  the  girl  rejoined 
Mr.  Helton,  and  the  two  men  left  Sanchez's  office 
almost  immediately. 

The  young  officer  said  nothing  to  his  friend 
concerning  his  suspicions  of  Miss  Morro's  guilty 
knowledge  of  Sanchez's  criminal  activity.  He 
was  not  sure  of  his  ground  and  he  knew  It  was 
never  wise  to  voice  suspicion  when  it  is  not  backed 
by  facts. 


[250] 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

DESPITE  the  fact  that  the  Senora  Castel- 
lanos  had  lost  heavily  through  the  dishon- 
esty of  Sanchez  she  offered  a  large  reward  for  his 
safe  return.  Though  she  had  learned  of  his  base- 
ness toward  Clemencia  and  was  angered  beyond 
measure,  she  found  that  blood  spoke  with  an 
importunate  voice.  Whatever  his  crime  against 
her  had  been  she  felt  that  she  could  settle  with  him 
later.  That  there  would  be  a  grim  reckoning 
with  the  derelict  the  old  woman  promised  herself 
firmly.  However,  just  now  her  first  endeavor  was 
to  find  Sanchez.  Of  course,  she  was  not  aware 
that  he  was  guilty  of  the  more  serious  crime  of 
murder. 

Immediate  search  was  instituted  for  the  missing 
man.  It  was  learned  that  he  had  not  been  seen  by 
his  usual  companions  after  he  left  the  country  club 
following  his  altercation  with  Lieutenant  Har- 
rington. 

At  first  Harrington  felt  uneasiness  because  of 

[251] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

his  trouble  with  the  missing  man,  but  this  passed 
away  as  he  was  easily  able  to  account  for  his  move- 
ments after  leaving  the  club,  from  where  he  had 
gone  directly  home  and  to  bed. 

Of  course,  Clemencia  and  her  grandmother 
knew  of  the  ride,  but  the  senora  forbade  the  girl 
to  tell  of  it  until  every  other  clew  had  been  run 
down. 

Two  days  went  by,  during  which  no  trace  of 
Sanchez  was  uncovered.  On  the  evening  of  the 
second  day  the  senora  reached  the  decision  to  per- 
mit Clemencia  to  tell  of  her  harrowing  experience 
in  the  secluded  cabin. 

The  old  woman,  with  Clemencia,  was  preparing 
to  visit  Santa  Barbara's  police  headquarters  for  an 
interview  with  the  chief  when  a  servant  announced 
the  arrival  of  Miss  Morro  on  an  important  mis- 
sion. 

The  senora  went  down  into  the  drawing-room, 
where  the  unfortunate  girl  awaited  her. 

Between  wild  sobs  the  girl  told  the  Senora  Cas- 
tellanos  that  she  loved  Manuel  Sanchez  better 
than  she  did  her  own  life.  She  also  revealed  other 
important  facts  to  the  old  Spanish  woman,  who 
listened  in  horrified  wonder  to  the  confession. 
[252] 


Clemettcia'0  Cri0i0 

It  had  been  Miss  Morro,  according  to  her 
story,  who  had  been  the  means  of  Clemencla's 
deliverance  from  the  cabin  in  the  woods.  Accord- 
ing to  the  girl's  story,  also,  on  that  evening  she 
had  suspected  that  her  lover  was  going  out  with 
his  cousin,  and,  driven  by  jealous  rage,  she  had 
followed  them  on  horseback,  keeping  far  enough 
away  to  escape  detection.  Then  through  the  cabin 
window  she  had  watched  their  struggle.  Manuel, 
facing  the  window,  had  glimpsed  her  after  she 
made  some  slight  noise  to  attract  his  glance.  Miss 
Morro  said  that  when  Clemencia  ran  out  of  the 
cabin  she  had  faced  her  lover,  telling  him  the 
time  had  come  for  their  marriage  and  that  she 
would  no  longer  wait. 

"  Then  he  laughed  in  my  face,"  she  sobbed, 
"  and  in  fury  I  stabbed  him  twice.  But  when  he 
fell  I  prayed  God  not  to  let  him  die.  For  two 
days  I  have  nursed  him,  but  this  morning  he  does 
not  know  me.  I  am  so  frightened,  and,  oh, 
senora,  will- he  die?  " 

A  rescue  party  was  sent  out  at  once  and  Sanchez 
was  brought  to  the  home  of  his  relative,  after  she 
had  made  a  solemn  promise  that  she  would  be 
responsible  for  his  safe  keeping.    The  old  woman 

[253  ] 


Clemenria'0  Cti0i0 

almost  succumbed  to  the  shock  when  she  learned 
that  he,  in  addition  to  his  crime  against  her,  was 
suspected  of  murder. 

It  was  many  weeks  before  Sanchez  was  well 
again  —  weeks  before  he  could  be  brought  to  trial 
for  his  misdeeds.  When  the  time  came,  however, 
the  trial  was  the  sensation  of  the  hour.  He  was 
acquitted  on  the  testimony  of  Miss  Morro.  It 
proved  him  to  have  been  only  the  tool  of  the  "  men 
higher  up  "  in  the  most  rascally  deal  ever  per- 
petrated anywhere.  But  though  Sanchez  missed 
the  penitentiary  his  days  for  doing  evil  were  over. 
The  stab  wound  had  paralyzed  one  side  and  ren- 
dered it  useless  forever. 

In  court  Miss  Morro  had  laid  stress  on  the  fact 
that  every  time  the  deadly  deeds  were  planned  she, 
at  Sanchez's  orders,  wrote  the  notes  which  saved 
the  men  at  the  power-house.  This  gained  his 
acquittal.  But  Barrington  suspected  that  she 
swore  falsely  to  save  the  man  she  loved.  He 
believed  that  she  herself  had  prevented  the  mur- 
ders without  orders  from  him.  But  she  was  able 
to  prove  that  the  short-circuit  crime  which  had 
resulted  in  the  death  of  the  three  men  was  not 
done  at  his  command  and  that  therefore  he  was 

[254] 


Clemencia'0  Cti0i0 

not  responsible  for  those  which  followed.  In  fact, 
she  testified  that  only  his  will  had  prevented  the 
murder  from  occurring  before  it  did. 

When  he  was  finally  acquitted,  that  most  faith- 
ful of  women  took  charge  of  the  now  helpless  man 
and  when  later  he  married  her  she  declared  her- 
self the  happiest  of  women. 

The  sunlight  was  flooding  the  world  when 
Senora  Castellanos  sent  for  Lieutenant  Barring- 
ton,  but  the  shadows  were  beginning  to  creep  over 
the  sublime  wilderness  of  mountains  before  their 
conversation  ended.  Their  talk  can  only  be 
guessed,  for  always  afterward  the  two  were 
strangely  silent  concerning  it.  But  In  the  solemn 
splendor  of  that  amber-shaded  room  the  Spanish 
woman  must  have  heard  the  secrets  of  the  young 
man's  heart,  and  the  struggle  that  Clemencia  made 
to  keep  her  vow,  for  later  she  said  to  the  padre : 

"  The  silent  force  of  nature  Is  a  wonderful 
thing,  and  the  awakening  of  a  soul  marvelous.  In 
the  silence  of  the  mountains  under  the  starlit  sky 
or  in  the  midst  of  heated  argument  the  soul  hears 
a  call  and  then  there  is  no  evading  its  magic.  It 
convinces  all  at  once.  A  magnet  that  baffles  the 
world  to  explain  drew  them  together." 

[255] 


Clemencia'0  Cri0i0 

The  older  woman's  face  was  white  and  drawn 
when  she  sent  for  her  granddaughter,  but  she 
never  faltered  In  what  she  had  to  do.  Clemencia 
alone  guessed  the  depth  of  her  feelings  as  she  felt 
her  grandmother's  cold  lips  against  her  forehead 
and  saw  her  tremble  when  she  left  the  room. 

Alone,  Barrington  and  Clemencia  faced  each 
other.  Storm  and  rain,  whirlwind  and  fire  held 
themselves  In  leash  as  they  looked  Into  each 
other's  eyes.  He  moved  toward  her  slowly  and 
opened  his  arms.  She  trembled  from  head  to 
foot,  but  she  spoke  first,  and  there  was  anguish 
in  her  voice: 

"  Oh,  I  am  a  very  wicked  woman,"  she  sobbed 
passionately,  "  because  I  know  now  my  heart  cries 
out  for  you." 

His  face  was  Illumined  by  her  words.  "  Be- 
loved, dare  you,  then,  any  longer  deny  me  entrance 
to  it?" 

"  Can  I  take  my  happiness  at  the  expense  of 
hers?" 

Sternly  he  replied:  "  You  are  tenacious  beyond 
belief  In  this  pretense  of  duty.  There  should  be 
no  room  In  your  heart  for  doubt." 

"  Either  way  my  heart  Is  crucified." 

[256] 


Clemenda'0  Cn0i0 

*'  Not  so,"  he  continued  quickly.  "  There  Is 
but  one  road  for  us,  and  we  will  travel  it 
together." 

"  Why  do  you  press  me  so  hard?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Because  you  would  cheat  us  both.  Too  much 
lies  between  us  now  for  you  to  hesitate." 

Still  she  struggled  to  fight  him  off.  "  Would 
not  memory  kill  us  both?  " 

The  moment  was  too  strenuous.  He  would  not 
spare  her.     She  must  bear  it  with  him. 

"  I  will  never  resign  my  rights,"  he  said  deter- 
minedly. 

She  clenched  her  hands  in  her  agitation.  "  Will 
God  forgive  me?  " 

Volcanoes,  fire,  storm  were  under  their  feet, 
but  they  trod  them  breast  to  breast,  as  he  whis- 
pered softly: 

"  He  has  nothing  to  forgive.  He  put  love  into 
your  bosom  to  drown  everything  else,"  and  caught 
her  to  his  heart. 


THE    END 


[257] 


YB  32883 


v-oi 


